


In Times Of Pandemics

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Common Law (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, COVID-19, Coronavirus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Pandemics, Quarantine, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: Wes is a germophobe whose OCD revolves around cleanliness and a fear of getting sick. Travis is an extrovert who needs to be around people. Then the COVID-19 pandemic hits.
Relationships: Travis Marks/Wes Mitchell
Comments: 58
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

In January 2020, Travis notices that the evening news is focusing a lot on China. Something about a flu-like illness that’s spreading in a place called Wuhan, which Travis has never heard of. News like that is depressing and doesn’t have anything to do with him, so he always changes the channel to watch basketball instead.

At the same time, Wes starts getting twitchy. He’s washing his hands a lot more than he usually does, he’s constantly wiping down everything on his desk with disinfectant wipes and he starts wearing gloves even while at the office. He changes gloves so often that he keeps several boxes in his desk drawer and half a dozen in his car. But Travis thinks that’s just Wes being Wes, so he doesn’t say anything.

Then Wes yells at Travis when he tries borrowing Wes’ stapler. Not only that, but Wes actually smacks Travis’ hand and snarls at him not to touch the stapler. That’s completely unnecessary so Travis smacks his hand just as hard, calls him a freak and goes to borrow Kate’s stapler, who’s a much more reasonable person.

* * *

In March, everything changes.

It starts on March 5.

Travis stopped watching the news a while ago so when Wes calls him early one morning to tell him that he’s not coming to work because he has to buy a house, Travis is understandably confused. “You’re gonna miss work cause you’re going house hunting?”

Wes lets out an annoyed breath, but he’s also breathing a bit too fast and his voice is tight. “Travis, I’m living in a hotel! A hotel that’s full of people who are always coming and going!”

Travis rolls his eyes as he slouches in his office chair and twirls the phone cord around his finger. “You’ve been living in the hotel for two years and you’ve always been fine with it. If somebody’s being too noisy, just call the front desk and the manager will take care of it.”

“Travis, don’t be an idiot! I don’t care about noise! We’re dealing with a pandemic and I’m living in a germ infested death trap!”

Pandemic? It takes Travis a second to remember those news reports from January and the bits of conversation he’s been overhearing lately. “Is this about the China thing? Wes, there’s this thing called an ocean that’s between us and China. It’s a big ocean and germs can’t fly that far.”

Wes makes another annoyed sound. “That ocean is crossed by dozens of planes every single day,” he says, speaking through what sounds like clenched teeth. “Those planes carry people. People who are sick. That’s how COVID-19 is spreading so fast. Jesus Christ, don’t you watch the news?! The governor declared a state of emergency for California last night!”

Travis hates being ignorant about something that Wes knows inside and out, so he hangs up on him and decides to do his own research. Because obviously, Wes is being his usual paranoid self and it’s up to Travis to calm him down so they can get back to work.

* * *

Sure enough, Travis comes to the conclusion that Wes is being his usual paranoid self. The situation isn’t nearly as serious as Wes is making it out to be. Only about 60 people have caught this flu thing in the entire state and only 3 old people have died. That’s terrible but it’s nothing compared to the normal flu numbers. Wes and the governor are both being paranoid idiots.

But while Wes’ ridiculous panic isn’t justified, Travis thinks he’s making the right call by getting out of the hotel. Moving out of the hotel is an important step that Wes has been avoiding for way too long anyway, so no matter what Wes’ motivations are, Travis approves and he’ll keep his mouth shut about it.

* * *

To Travis’ shock, Wes buys a house and moves out of the hotel within a week. Travis had always been sure that house hunting would take Wes at least six months, but Wes doesn’t seem to care what the house looks like or where it’s located, as long as it meets one specific criteria:

He wanted a gated driveway so nobody can drive up to his house and “bring the plague to his doorstep”.

It’s so over the top and stupid and paranoid that Travis refuses to talk about Wes’ new house or he’ll snap and throw things. It’s much easier to focus on work.

* * *

But March doesn’t only bring Wes’ new house. It brings a whole bunch of other annoyances that Travis is forced to deal with.

The NBA cancels the rest of their season, which means Travis is stuck watching the same games he’s already seen. Not only does Travis lose his sports, but the governor makes some stupid rule that any event with more than 250 people has to be canceled so Travis can’t go to two concerts he’s been looking forward to for more than a year. Plus, he has to spend hours on hold to get a refund.

Then mid March comes and the governor decimates what’s left of Travis’ social calendar by forcing night clubs, bars and movie theaters to shut down too. Travis spends a day cursing the paranoid moron and being angry, until he decides to stop being angry and find solutions.

So instead of going to his usual partying spots, he spends more time with his various families. They’re always happy to see him and Travis happily bounces from one family’s barbecue to another family’s birthday party and that nicely keeps his social calendar full.

Plus, he discovers that some bars and clubs are ignoring the governor’s orders to close so Travis makes it his mission to find and try out every single one of them, even if some of them are a bit far away. It makes him feel kinda proud that he’s being so clever and finding ways to push back against the governor’s tyrannical stupidity. After all, only 15 people have died from this flu thing and sure, 730 people are currently sick but from what Travis has been hearing, the majority of people are seniors who have other health problems anyway and the younger people catching it barely have worse symptoms than sniffling and coughing.

He also looks up California’s annual flu numbers and 730 is nothing compared to what they deal with every single year. And since their entire state never shuts down for the flu season—cause that would be stupid—it pisses Travis off that the governor is treating this new flu as something catastrophic. That’s another reason he’s proud that he’s not giving in to the governor’s stupidity.

The only downside is that he can’t tell Wes about his cleverness because Wes is very happy with the governor’s decisions so that would just lead to a fight.

* * *

Wes starts hoarding. Whenever they’re driving around the city, Wes will stop at random grocery stores they pass, put on his gloves, two surgical masks and sprint inside to buy an entire cart’s worth of disinfectant wipes, cleaning sprays, paper towels and toilet paper. Never mind the food. Wes buys entire cartons of pasta and rice, cans of tomato sauce, tuna, vegetables, fruits and whatever else won’t expire for years.

At first, Travis tries pointing out how stupid and unnecessary it is, but Wes doesn’t react like he usually does when Travis says these things. No, Wes reacts viciously. He snarls at Travis that he’s being stupid and irresponsible and his eyes are always wide with a slightly crazed look in them. So Travis stops arguing with him.

Besides, Wes’ new house is big enough that if he wants to fill entire rooms with his hoard, he can do that. And Wes always does his shopping fast so their work isn’t impacted. Plus, it’s not like Wes can’t afford to spend his money on this much stuff and Travis figures that Wes will eventually use up all of it, so he’s not throwing away his money. Not really. It’s still stupid and unnecessary, but he’s not going to argue about it.

* * *

A few days after Wes’ hoarding starts, Travis stops at the grocery store on his way home because he’s out of toilet paper and he’s greeted by complete pandemonium. The store is stuffed full of people and all of them have carts filled to the brim with cleaning supplies, canned and dry goods...and toilet paper.

Some people are even pulling two carts at a time, all filled with toilet paper. Travis watches a person trying to grab a pack of toilet paper from one of the overladen carts and the cart-owner goes crazy, screaming at the person, ripping the package of toilet paper out of their hands and smacking them with it.

It feels like being in an alternate reality. It’s like the entire world has gone crazy from one day to the next.

By the time Travis fights his way through the crowds to reach the aisle with the toilet paper, he’s greeted by completely empty shelves. It’s such a bizarre sight that he just stands there, gaping at the stripped shelves in confusion.

For the first time, fear settles into Travis. Because this isn’t the world he knows. This is something that happens in movies or other countries that have nothing to do with Travis.

But it’s happening.

Not only does the experience leave him feeling slightly panicked and a tiny bit scared, but he’s also annoyed because he really does need toilet paper.

Wes sighs when Travis calls him after he’s fought his way back out of the store, empty handed. It’s Wes' ‘I’m-annoyed-with-you’ sigh and Travis is bracing himself for Wes to say no just to rub it in Travis’ face. But Wes doesn’t.

“Come over and wait by the gate. I’ll bring you some stuff. But don’t tell anybody else!”

As Travis drives his bike over to Wes’, his mind keeps reeling at how strange everything is. Just at the beginning of March, things were fine. Normal. There was something happening in a place called Wuhan in China, but that had nothing to do with him.

Now, the NBA season is canceled, most of the places he’d liked to socialize at are closed and Travis is driving over to Wes’ house to get toilet paper because people are stocking up on supplies as if the apocalypse is coming.

He wants to shake everybody and point out how stupid they’re being. It’s like the world has become populated by a bunch of Wes’.

Because the apocalypse isn’t really coming.

Is it?

No, that’s ridiculous.

Yes. Ridiculous.

* * *

Travis stares at Wes, who is looking everywhere but at him as they stand six feet apart in front of the station. “What?”

Wes is wearing those stupid masks and his gloved hands are clenched. Travis is getting used to the masks so he can still recognized the pinched look on Wes’ face, despite not being able to see if his jaw is tightly clenched.

“I said that I don’t feel comfortable with you riding in my car.”

Travis gapes at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Travis, there’s a pandemic going on and I don’t feel comfortable with you being in my car when you’ve been around other people.”

“Wes, we have a crime scene to go to. You just gotta put your stupid OCD bullshit on hold for now and I promise, we can argue about stupid things once we’re done at the scene.”

But to his surprise, Wes doesn’t yell back. Instead, Wes blinks twice and looks at Travis impassively. “I have a right to refuse unsafe work conditions. If you want, I can go inside and talk to Cap about it but he’ll agree with me and then we’ll be right back here. You’re wasting time.”

Blowing out an annoyed breath, Travis takes a step closer to Wes—who promptly steps back to maintain the same distance between them.

The whole thing is pissing Travis off—the masks, the gloves, the distance and now, Wes kicking him out of his car—and it’s all for some stupid flu thing. He wants to keep arguing with Wes, but unfortunately, Wes doesn’t look like he’s gearing up for a fight and that’s not good. Instead, he’s calm and his tone tells Travis that he’s thought this through and that means it’ll take ages to change his mind. Since they have a crime scene to get to, Travis doesn’t have time for that.

“Fine,” he grits out between clenched teeth and he stomps back into the station to get his bike keys.

* * *

As annoying as it is to have Wes refuse to let Travis share his car with him, it ends up working out well because when April starts, Captain Sutton closes the station and tells everybody to take their computers and case files home and work remotely. He’s had plexiglass partitions installed in the interrogation rooms so they won’t come in direct contact with any suspects but asides from interrogations, they’re told to stay away from the station unless they absolutely have to come in.

Travis loves it. He doesn’t have to commute to and from the station any more so he gets to sleep in a bit more every day. And on days when he and Wes are waiting for results and don’t catch new cases, Travis can spend the entire day in his pajamas and sprawled out on his couch, watching sport reruns. As long as he keeps his laptop open on the coffee table to keep an eye on his emails and he keeps his phone close by if Wes calls him, it’s considered work while not feeling like work and Travis loves it.

It’s so much more comfortable to lie on his couch in his pajamas and talk through a case with Wes while Wes is on the other end of the phone and can’t nag him for being covered in nacho crumbs and watching TV at the same time.

Wes seems much happier now that he can lock himself up in his sanitized fortress whenever he’s not driving around in his sanitized car by himself and when Wes is in a good mood, he’s much easier to deal with. Travis doesn’t mind driving his bike to scenes and he quickly gets used to Wes keeping a ridiculous amount of distance between them when they’re at scenes so that’s not a big deal.

Best of all, the governor orders some stupid ‘shelter-in-place’ orders which means Travis is driving down empty streets and he no longer has to worry about battling rush hour traffic on the highway for the first time in his life. It’s fantastic!

Travis also begrudgingly admits that Wes’ hoarding wasn’t stupid, which is why Wes continues sharing his stash with Travis whenever the stores get stripped of something because people continue to be stupid.

First it was toilet paper. Now, apparently everybody’s trying to become professional bakers because all the flour is gone so Travis can’t make fried chicken. It’s very handy that Wes has all the flour Travis needs.

Overall, Travis doesn’t mind this new way of life.

* * *

In May, things take another sharp turn when Kate’s elderly mother dies from this COVID-19 thing. Travis feels for Kate—of course he does—but dying from the flu has always been a possibility for seniors. That’s why seniors are encouraged to get the flu vaccine every year.

But then Travis realizes that this new flu thing doesn’t have a vaccine...and that’s when things start feeling scary again.

It doesn’t help when Wes tells him more details about what happened with Kate’s mom.

“Kate says she was in a lot of pain and couldn’t breathe properly before the end. She needed a respirator but the hospital didn’t have enough of them. They’re overwhelmed with too many cases and not enough supplies. And Kate wasn’t even allowed to see her mom.”

All of this is leaving Travis’ head spinning. “Wes, this is supposed to be the flu. California has thousands of flu cases every year and we have enough supplies and people are allowed to visit. It’s not supposed to be...like this.”

Wes sighs softly. “I keep telling you that this thing is worse than the flu. It spreads like wildfire and we don’t have a vaccine yet. Nobody’s protected. And this thing is a lot more vicious than the flu. For some people, they don’t get any symptoms and for others it’s like having a normal flu or cold, but a lot of people are hit hard. They’re in pain and they can’t breathe. This thing is like the flu but a thousand times worse.”

This can’t be happening. This isn’t the world Travis knows. It’s not a world Travis likes.

But there’s nothing Travis can do about it.

* * *

Kate’s mom dying changes everything for him.

He does some more research and comes to a startling conclusion. Currently, 50,000 people are infected in California and 2,200 people have died and there’s no end in sight. This coronavirus thing isn’t just the flu. It’s a danger. A threat to their society.

It makes Travis re-examine what’s been happening and he realizes he’s not happy with how he’s been handling things. He’s been living his life by just focusing on the positives and brushing aside the annoyances. NBA season is canceled? Not a big deal, he can watch re-runs. Night clubs get closed? No problem, he has 18 families to visit. Bars are shut down? Travis has found the ones which are violating that order and he’s been visiting them, partying with dozens of strangers and bringing a few of them home to continue having fun in his bedroom. Station being shut down? Travis loves working from home in his pajamas.

But Travis has missed the point behind all of these measures. They’re not being done to make Travis’ life difficult. These changes aren’t a challenge that Travis is supposed to fight against and overcome. These things are being done because this stupid plague spreads quickly and also kills quickly.

It makes his stomach clench to realize that he’s continued partying with strangers and then going to family barbecues where he’s hugging and touching his family. Many of his foster parents are elderly and Travis could have gotten them sick. He could be one of those silent carrier people who have the virus but don’t develop any symptoms. And he’s not just interacting with his own family. He talks to dozens of people at crime scenes all the time. Unlike Wes, Travis isn’t wearing a mask and he always thought Wes’ insistence of staying six feet away from whoever he’s talking to is rude so Travis hasn’t been doing that.

The only consolation is that nobody Travis knows has gotten sick.

But he’s starting to realize that this isn’t a one-off. Even if he isn’t sick and didn’t infect anybody else yet, there’s a chance that could happen the next time he sees them. Maybe tomorrow, the cashier Travis will flirt with or the victim’s family he’ll talk to or the one night stand he picks up at a bar will be infected and then Travis will be infected and he’ll pass this thing on. In normal situations, people could get vaccinated. That would be their weapon. But in this case, nobody has a weapon.

Travis realizes the only way to protect others around him is to do his best not to get infected himself. He has the potential to get infected, but he’s capable of protecting himself and in turn, protecting other people. It occurs to him that this isn’t just a decent thing to do, but it’s his responsibility, isn’t it? He loves his community and his way of life and if he wants to protect the people around him, it starts with him.

So he calls Wes. “Can you give me a couple of those mask things you’re wearing?”

“I’ll give you two boxes and a few boxes of gloves. And put a garbage bag in your backpack so you can put the used ones in there and throw them out whenever we go from one place to another.”

“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s raining, which means Travis doesn’t want to ride his bike. Wes freaks out when Travis rides his bike in the rain and anyway, Travis ends up getting soaked and he can’t see anything and the whole experience is stupid and unsafe. So on days when it’s raining, he catches a cab to the station and borrows one of the squad cars.

Before Kate’s mom had passed away, Travis would be really pissed off on rainy days because in a normal world, Wes would pick him up in his car. But now, Travis can’t even get mad at Wes for not allowing Travis to share his car with him. Travis still thinks it’s a bit much because he’d wear a mask and gloves while in the car and Wes thoroughly cleans his car several times a day anyway. Plus, Travis has stopped going out and he’s canceled all his future plans so he’s reasonably sure he isn’t going to get infected and pass anything onto Wes.

But this whole pandemic thing has Wes constantly on edge and the best way to deal with him is to spend as little time talking about non-work related things as possible. After all, it’s not Wes’ problem that Travis doesn’t have a car.

So Travis keeps his mouth shut about it and has a cab drop him off at the station so he can grab one of the squad cars.

But now that he’s more aware of what’s happening around him, he hates using the squad cars. Even though Cap had reassured him that the department is paying cleaners to clean the cars every night, there’s an empty, crumbled McDonalds bag underneath the driver’s seat when Travis gets in, so the cleaning definitely isn’t as thorough as it should be.

The thought of other people having been in the car and touching the steering wheel and maybe sneezing on the gear shift and touching the window controls or mirror buttons with non-gloved germy hands makes his skin crawl. For the first time, Travis is looking at the world the way Wes usually sees it and he finds himself cringing as he carefully slides into the car.

He digs out one of his masks from his bag and puts it on, just in case. He briefly considers taking out his Wes-provided container of wipes and cleaning the steering wheel and other parts of the car that could be plague infected, but he decides against it. The plague can’t seep through his skin and as long as he doesn’t touch his face or any food before disinfecting his hands, he’ll be fine.

But having to sit in the car and drive it keeps making his skin crawl and he hates it. By the time he’s arrived at the crime scene, he’s decided he’s going to trade in his bike for a car. He can always trade them back once this plague thing is finished.

Wes is waiting for him, wearing his double masks, double gloves and the face shield thing he’s started using recently.

The second Travis is out of the potentially plague infested car, he’s opening his backpack, taking out his container of wipes and thoroughly scrubbing his hands clean. Even once that’s done, he still feels uncomfortable so he stuffs his current mask into the garbage bag and pulls out a clean one.

Wes is watching him and he’s frowning. “You never disinfect your hands when we get to a crime scene.”

Travis is pulling on a pair of gloves. “I don’t think they’re cleaning the cars like they’re supposed to. I found some garbage under the seat.”

Travis is busy pinching at the little metal strip in his mask so it’ll seal better around his face, but he doesn’t miss Wes’ frown deepening.

“Captain Sutton says they’re doing a deep clean on the cars every night.”

Travis shrugs. He doesn’t want to get into an argument with Wes about this because his thoughts are stuck on having to get back into the germy, gross car once they’re done at the scene and he hates life. “Maybe they’re wiping down the seats and steering wheels but aren’t focusing on the garbage? I don’t know. Still gives me the creeps.”

He walks past Wes to where the uniformed cop is waiting on the other side of the yellow crime scene tape. Before ducking underneath it, he notices Wes hasn’t been following him and he glances over his shoulder. “You coming?”

“That’s not right,” Wes says. He sounds annoyed but also worried.

Travis sighs. “Yeah, but whatever. I’m trading in my bike for a car this weekend so I won’t have to keep using the squad cars.”

Wes is staring at him but after a moment, he breaks eye contact and walks towards the taped off crime scene, deliberately walking around Travis so he always maintains at least six feet between them.

* * *

Two days later, Wes calls him in the morning. The weather’s good again so Travis is happy that he’ll be riding his bike today and he’s already spent time online looking at what car he wants, so life is relatively good.

But surprisingly, Wes starts out the conversation with something not related to work, which is rare these days. “Are you still going out and spending time with people?”

Travis snorts as he sips his coffee. He doesn’t know why Wes is asking him questions when he’ll see Wes at the neighborhood they’re going to go canvas in less than an hour. “No.”

“When was the last time you went out?”

“What’s with the million questions? And what does this have to do with our case?”

Wes sighs. He sounds annoyed. “Just answer the question.”

Travis puts down his coffee cup. “Two weeks.”

“And you don’t have any flu-like symptoms, right?”

What the hell is wrong with the man? “You saw me yesterday. Did I look like I’m sick?”

“Just answer the question. Do you feel sick this morning? Fever? Coughing? Sore throat?”

“No, no and no. I’m fine. What the hell does it matter anyway? You’re always six feet away from me and you know I wear the mask when I’m around other people.”

“It matters because I’m here to pick you up. Hurry up and get down here or we’re going to be late.”

Travis blinks. Wes is seriously going to let Travis back into his car? “Seriously?”

Another annoyed sigh. “Yes, seriously. You’re taking the situation more seriously than you did at the start and I’ve made some adjustments to my car. As long as you wear gloves and a mask while in the car, I’m happy to go back to our normal arrangement.”

Travis doesn’t believe a word of it until he’s outside and staring into the open passenger side door of Wes’ car. There’s now a clear sheet of plexiglass that’s splitting the driver and passenger sides in half. Peering inside, Travis notices the plastic extends into the backseats as well and there’s another sheet that divides the front seats from the back.

The nutcase has actually turned his car into four individual little units because of course he did.

Grinning behind his mask, Travis looks through the hard plastic sheet at Wes, who’s impatiently tapping on the steering wheel, his two masks and gloves firmly in place.

“You seriously did this so we can keep riding together?”

Wes rolls his eyes. “Just get in and put your gloves on. We’re gonna be late.”

So Travis gets into what’s always been ‘his’ seat and sinks into the soft padding, sighing happily. But Wes is staring at him expectantly, so Travis opens his backpack and takes out his box of gloves.

“Don’t use your own stash, use the ones under the dash,” Wes tells him. “And don’t touch anything except the door handle when you have to get out.”

* * *

Driving down the nearly empty highway while in Wes’ car is a strange experience.

While riding his bike, there’s always a ton of noise and the wind pulls at him and the roar of the engine beneath him adds to the experience. The squad cars are also loud, Travis always has the radio turned on and anyway, he has to concentrate when he’s driving.

But now that he’s not driving, he’s noticing how quiet it is. Wes isn’t talking and the radio is located on Wes’ side of the plexiglass and he hasn’t turned it on and Travis doesn’t want to push his luck with this new situation. It’s a huge deal that Wes is letting Travis share his car in the midst of a pandemic and Travis wants to do his best not to annoy him.

But the silence is made worse by Wes’ car being one of those ridiculously expensive and fancy cars that barely makes a sound. Driving down the deserted highway in silence makes it feel like Travis is drifting through a wasteland. Like it’s the aftermath of the apocalypse and it’s really creepy.

Before the pandemic, this highway would be crammed full of cars because it’s rush hour and they’d be inching along with Wes complaining constantly. But now, there’s no rush hour because millions of people have lost their jobs and they’re sitting at home so this plague will stop spreading so fast and killing them all.

“This is weird,” he says.

Wes sighs softly. “Yeah.” Then Wes flips a button on his steering wheel and the radio comes to life, softly playing some jazz music from the station Wes likes. “I’ll switch it in ten minutes.”

That makes Travis gape at him because not only did Wes let him back into his car, but he’s making a huge effort to make Travis a happy passenger, which never happens.

But Wes doesn’t stop there. “Tell me what cars you were thinking of buying.”

“I’ve got a couple picked out and I’ll go check them out this weekend.”

Wes rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to buy a car if you don’t want to. As long as you obey the rules, you can keep riding with me. But I’m curious what monstrosities you picked out as potential options so start talking.”

Travis dives right in, telling Wes in great detail what cars he’d had his eyes on.

It only occurs to him when they arrive at the crime scene that maybe, just maybe Wes has missed having Travis as his car-sharing buddy.

* * *

By mid May, things get even worse. The economy’s been devastated and the governor has allowed some shops and other places to open up to get things moving again. People were already violating his orders to stay off the beaches anyway and Travis thinks maybe the governor is worried more people will defy him and all hell will break loose.

Unfortunately, the loosening of restrictions has the results that everybody thought it would and the number of cases and deaths start sky-rocketing in perfect sync with more restrictions being loosened. Thousands of people are getting infected each day and California’s averaging nearly 100 deaths per day. On June 24th alone, 7,149 new cases are confirmed.

By June, Travis has been dutifully keeping his social calendar empty for two months and he’s starting to feel the impact. Once the governor allows even more businesses to re-open in mid June, Travis is very tempted to take advantage of it. Sure, he talks to his family and friends on the phone and on video calls, but it’s not the same. He’s the type of person who needs physical contact. Small things like hugs, kissing somebody on the cheek, slinging an arm around somebody’s waist—these are all things that feed his soul and makes him feel good.

And he’s had none of that since early May. Obviously, there’s been zero physical contact between him and Wes since March and there won’t be any for the foreseeable future. Sometimes he gets this weird clench in his gut when he watches people casually touching each other on the TV or he sees people on the street being physically affectionate. He misses it so badly but he can’t give in.

If he lets himself go to a barbecue or go out clubbing for a night, he’ll spend the whole time worrying that maybe he’s infected and passing it onto other people. Or maybe somebody else is infected, they’ll pass it onto Travis and he’ll pass it onto Wes or somebody else.

With the cases climbing higher and higher every single day, it’s becoming clear that this plague hits people of all ages and if it’s feeling particularly vicious, it hits hard. He’s heard of perfectly healthy people who are younger than him who got it and died within days.

He’d never be able to live with himself if he gets one of his loved ones sick or if God forbid, they die because of it. Wes is included on that list and because Travis spends a lot of time around Wes—even though they take precautions—he’s not going to risk potentially killing Wes because he’s lonely and desperate for physical contact.

So he clenches his jaw and puts on a strained smile as he answers call after call from his various foster families and patiently explains that no, he won’t be joining them for their Fourth of July party and he really thinks they should re-consider having the party in the first place. Some listen to him, some laugh it off and others hang up on him and insist he’s a ‘sheep’, but Travis doesn’t care. He’s doing what he needs to do and that’s what will allow him to sleep at night, even if he’s miserable.

He just has to wait this out and somehow cope with the crushing loneliness that’s pulling him deeper and deeper every single day.

* * *

As any idiot could have predicted, the number of infections and deaths shoot up so quickly that by mid July, businesses are ordered to close again but the damage is already done. During their short month of ‘freedom’, the number of hospitalizations have doubled and the hospitals are struggling to deal with the massive numbers of patients again. That means some poor souls have to go without the essential medication or equipment they need to make their final hours more bearable. Not to mention that they’re not allowed to see their loved ones before the end.

Travis is starting to resent the people he sees who are blatantly violating the physical distancing or mask wearing guidelines. It’s even worse when it’s somebody he knows. While he’s at the grocery store, he’s standing on one of the navigational arrows on the floor and patiently waiting for a woman to finish picking out a box of pasta before he can access the section himself.

That’s when he hears a loud “Hey, Travis! Is that you, man?” from behind him.

Turning around, he recognizes one of his foster brothers, Mike. He’s hurrying towards Travis, not wearing a mask and going the wrong way down the one-way aisle.

Mike’s rushing up to him and when Travis realizes he’s actually going in for a hug, he throws up his arm to hold him back. He doesn’t even think about; it’s an automatic reaction. “Hey, buddy! Hey, we’re not doing the hugging thing, remember?”

Travis holds up his elbow and wiggles it, expecting Mike to laugh, apologize for forgetting and joining his ‘elbow-hug’. But Mike’s smile gets strained and he’s staring at the mask on Travis’ face and his offered elbow.

“You too, man? Seriously? You’re buying into this bullshit?”

Great. Travis is getting so tired of dealing with these kinds of people that he’s started tuning them out. It’s a waste of time to argue with them and since they never wear masks or maintain physical distance, the confrontations have the potential to be dangerous.

So Travis pastes a polite smile on his face, hoping Mike can read it through his mask. “Yeah, orders from work.” He shrugs. “What can you do?”

Mike’s nodding. “Yeah, it’s all government bullshit, man. And you’re right in the middle of it. You realize they’re gonna force you to vaccinate people and give ‘em the tracking chip once it’s ready, right?”

If this were June, Travis would be shocked by this. But he’s heard this conspiracy bullshit enough by now to know that the best way to deal with the situation is to get himself out of the conversation. And anyway, every word that Mike is saying is reminding Travis that he’s not wearing a mask and there’s not enough distance between them and Travis will see Wes tomorrow.

So Travis keeps smiling. “I gotta run, man. But it was good seeing you!”

And he turns around and hurries away. He’ll get Wes to bring him a box of pasta from his stash tomorrow.

* * *

On July 22, California records 12,807 new cases in a single day. The death toll is at 7,755.

And California gets the dubious honor of becoming the state with the highest number of cases, surpassing New York.

* * *

On July 31, a new record of 215 people die in a single day.

It’s the third day in a row that the state breaks a new record for fatalities in a single day.

* * *

In mid August, things get more complicated as the summer heat soars into the triple digits and stays there. Like most people, Travis’ apartment has an AC unit that works perfectly fine but the power grid can’t support the millions of Los Angeles residents who all have their AC units cranked while stuck at home. With movie theaters, malls and other usual cool-down places closed, people have no choice.

So not only is Travis dealing with loneliness and staying safe from the plague, but the power company implements rolling blackouts that cut out his power for short intervals to lighten the load on the grid and hopefully prevent massive, long term blackouts.

It’s miserable and Travis spends the blackout times on his couch, staring at his dark ceiling and trying to breathe through the sticky heat that clings to him.

He tries to remind himself that at least he has an apartment with an AC unit and he can afford to pay the high power bills when he has access to the grid. A lot of people don’t have that. But somehow he can’t get to a point of appreciation and he stays stuck on self-pity and annoyance.


	3. Chapter 3

“You have to what?!”

“I have to finish cleaning the gate.”

Wes says this as if it’s a normal thing to say. His voice is full of annoyance and he sounds rushed, like Travis is wasting his time asking stupid questions.

But no, Travis asked a reasonable question. After waiting outside his apartment for ten minutes for Wes to show up, there hasn’t been any sign of him. After Travis called him, Wes had informed him that he’s going to be late because he has to clean his gate. As if that’s a normal thing to do.

But this is Wes so if Travis points out how stupid he sounds, it’ll just lead to Wes hanging up on him and that won’t bring them any closer to their new crime scene. So patience is the key. “Why do you have to clean your gate?”

“I was watching the security camera last night and there were some hooligans walking around on the street. They spent ten minutes standing right by the gate, Travis!”

Travis frowns into the distance. “Did they try to break in?”

“What? No.”

“Did they damage the gate?”

“No! You’re not—Travis, I don’t have time to keep talking about this. I have to get back to cleaning and then I’ll pick you up. I finished the first pass and there’s two more to do and the faster you stop bothering me, the faster I’ll finish!”

Wes is yelling and he sounds completely unhinged. It’s not only his tone that’s setting off alarm bells in Travis’ head but also Wes’ words. Cleaning the gate is stupid and unnecessary and Wes should realize that. And even if cleaning it were important—which it’s not—Wes shouldn’t be doing that when they have a crime scene to get to.

So Travis hangs up his phone, hops on his bike and drives over to Wes’ house.

Sure enough, Wes is wearing his masks, gloves and face shield and he’s holding a canister with a spray handle that’s spraying something on the large iron bars of the gate that’s blocking his driveway.

Getting off his bike, Travis takes off his helmet and digs into his bag for a mask as he wanders over. “Hey, buddy.”

Wes doesn’t pause the methodical spraying. Up and down one rod, then the next. “I told you I’ll finish faster if you don’t interrupt me. I’m on the second pass so one more after this and we can go.”

Travis stops on the other side of the gate and stays out of spray range. That bad feeling is growing in his gut as he watches Wes.

Wes is completely hyper focused on disinfecting the large gate. He’s acting like he’ll be using the rods as kebab spikes for his lunch. If that were the case then fine, Travis would agree that cleaning them is necessary. But this is the gate on Wes’ driveway. Wes doesn’t even touch the gate with his bare hands, never mind coming in closer contact with it.

But it seems Wes is way past the point of being able to think rationally about the situation and that’s never a good sign. Because Wes only gets to this point if he’s spent way too much time stuck in his head and his thoughts have spiraled to a point where he’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is a necessity.

It kind of makes Travis feel guilty. Ever since March, he’s been completely focused on himself and how the pandemic has been impacting him. It’s been easy to avoid worrying about Wes because they don’t see each other as much as they used to and Travis has deliberately kept their conversations focused on work so he won’t get annoyed by Wes bitching about different things.

But it’s been six months and clearly, it’s done Wes no favors to be stuck in a huge house by himself and to be spending many more hours alone than he normally does.

Wes’ only companions in the last six months have been Travis and his OCD and Travis has minimized his role in Wes’ life. It’s obvious that the OCD has taken advantage of the vacated space in Wes’ head and it’s made itself really comfortable.

Well, that’s about to change.

“Wes, stop spraying.”

“I’m almost done the second pass, just wait!”

Travis steps closer. “If you don’t stop, you’re gonna spray that shit right into my eyes.”

“I won’t spray you if you stay back!”

Yep, the OCD has made itself very comfortable. It’s put its feet up on the coffee table and cracked open a beer. Travis walks closer and Wes’ eyes are darting between the spray nozzle and Travis. Travis keeps coming, knowing there’s a battle raging in Wes’ head but knowing he’ll win.

Finally, Wes turns off the spray and glares at Travis. “Why are you being dumb? Just let me finish and we can go to work.”

“Why do you need to clean the gate?”

Wes rolls his eyes behind the face shield. Travis can tell his jaw is clenched behind his mask. “Because those hooligans might have touched it!”

Wes looks exhausted and pale and it enrages Travis to know that he’d probably stayed awake for hours, replaying the pointless security footage and trying to suppress the urge to go outside and clean the gate in the middle of the night. By this morning, Wes must have reached the point of exhaustion and his OCD has declared victory when Wes had hurried outside to complete this stupid task before going to work. “So what if they touched the gate?”

“What if they were sick, Travis?! The gate might be infected!”

Travis steps closer to the gate but keeps six feet of distance between them. He also doesn’t touch the gate because Wes would panic even more if he thought Travis was touching the ‘infected gate’ with bare hands and he doesn’t want any distractions. “Did you see them touch the gate?”

“No. But there was a crowd of them and I didn’t see all of their hands at all times.”

“Okay, so let’s assume that they _did_ touch the gate. How the hell could that make you sick?”

“That’s not the point!” Wes snarls, banging on the iron rods with his gloved hand. “The gate is potentially covered in the virus so I have to clean it!”

Travis keeps pushing. “But why? There’s tons of infected shit in the world, Wes. You can’t clean all of it and you don’t have to. And you know why? Cause you don’t come in contact with that stuff.”

Wes’ eyes are still wild and he’s shaking a bit. It makes Travis ache with the need to pull him into his arms to calm him down but Wes wouldn’t appreciate that in normal times, never mind now. “It’s irrelevant! I—”

“It’s not irrelevant! It’s completely relevant! You never touch this gate with your bare hands. You’ve got a remote for that. And even if you did touch the gate with your bare hands and even if there are germs on it, you’d clean your hands before touching your face or eating, right?”

Wes’ jaw shifts behind the mask and he’s still breathing way too fast, but he’s blinking rapidly and his eyes are shifting around. His brain is taking in the new information that Travis is giving him and using it to push back against the OCD’s arguments.

Travis keeps going. “You’re wasting your time and supplies cleaning something that doesn’t need to be cleaned. Your stupid OCD convinced you that cleaning the gate is necessary because it’s a controlling, cruel asshole and it likes making you suffer but you gotta call its bullshit when there’s bullshit. And cleaning the gate is bullshit!”

Wes’ breathing is calming and he looks down at the spray nozzle and container in his hand. “I...I don’t have to clean the gate.”

“No. No, you don’t. It’s pointless. You know it is.”

As Wes’ panic fades, he flushes a bit, embarrassed.

Travis shuffles a little closer to the gate. “Buddy, I think we gotta talk about this. You know this isn’t okay.”

But that was the wrong thing to say because Wes glares at him, his hands clenching on the canister and spray wand. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re making us late for work cause you’re cleaning the gate on your driveway. A gate that you never touch with your hands. That’s a problem and yeah, we need to talk about it.”

Wes’ glare gets more intense and his breathing has picked up speed. “It’s my gate and if I want to clean it then I can clean it! It’s my damn business and you need to stay out of it!”

“We’re supposed to be at a scene right now! There’s a body lying out in the heat and tons of people are standing around, waiting for us! So no, you can’t clean your fucking driveway gate right now and the fact that you think you can is a big problem!”

Unfortunately, yelling at Wes never works out well and Travis knows it. But he’s sad and lonely, the world is a shitty place and the stupid gate between him and Wes is a perfect metaphor for Travis’ life so he doesn’t regret losing control of his temper.

Wes keeps glaring at him. “You should take your bike to the crime scene. I’ll meet you there.”

Fine. Rolling his eyes, Travis stomps back to his bike, still pissed off at the entire world. He’s also feeling sorry for himself and Wes but being pissed off is better so he clings to that. “If you’re not at the scene in twenty minutes, I’m calling Cap and telling him you’re wasting time cleaning shit when you’re supposed to be working.”

Wes yells something rude at his back but Travis rips his mask off and puts his helmet on so he can’t hear him.

* * *

It takes two days until Wes is willing to let Travis back into his car but he makes it clear that he doesn’t want to talk about ‘the gate incident’ or anything related to it.

Travis stares at Wes after he makes his demands. Wes looks exhausted, pale and his eyes are panicked but Travis doesn’t have the energy to fight with him so he drops it.

* * *

By mid September, Travis is watching the news where the state’s health minister is providing an update on the pandemic.

He’s hugging a pillow to his chest because that’s something he’s been doing lately. It’s stupid and it doesn’t feel the same as having somebody hugging him but Travis is all alone in his apartment so nobody can judge him. It does make him feel a tiny bit better, but not much.

She provides the usual update on the number of cases and deaths and Travis barely feels anything when she declares that California has reached 15,000 fatalities from the virus. The numbers have become meaningless to him. It’s like a runaway train that won’t stop until they’re all dead.

Then the health minister drops the bombshell that she thinks the situation won’t improve until the fall.

At first, Travis misunderstands what she says and thinks she said fall 2020 and his heart lights up as he drops his pillow and sits up straight. He doesn’t know how things turned around so fast because there’s no vaccine yet but she’s saying definitely saying things will go back to normal in the fall.

Travis will be able to see his families again! He’ll get to go to the station and spend all day around Wes and his co-workers again! He’ll get to go to concerts, movies and clubs. It’s perfect timing because Thanksgiving’s coming up, then Christmas, then New Years, which means Travis will have on party after another to go to. Fantastic!

Then Travis pays closer attention to what she’s saying and it turns out she’s talking about fall 2021.

A year from now.

A. Year.

Travis has been stuck in his lonely world for five months already and she’s saying they’re not even halfway through.

He’ll have to spend 12 more months by himself. Not being around people. Not being touched and not being allowed to touch anybody else. Always keeping six feet of space between himself and anybody else.

That’s when he grabs his pillow back and clutches it as his throat tightens and he fights back the urge to burst into tears. Because he can’t do 12 more months of this. He just can’t. He feels like shit all the time and there’s a dark heaviness inside of him that’s been growing bigger and heavier and if it doesn’t stop, it’ll swallow him whole.

He can’t do 12 more months of this. He just can’t.

But the stupid part is that he doesn’t have a choice and that brings him even closer to tears.

* * *

It gets worse when he’s talking to one of his foster mothers on video chat. She’s telling him how upset she is that she hasn’t seen some of her nieces and nephews in weeks. They were supposed to fly in for her birthday next week but obviously, they won’t come.

But she says this as she’s sitting there, her baby granddaughter bouncing on her lap while other members of her family constantly walk past behind her.

Travis watches them casually brushing past each other, touching each other’s shoulders, squeezing each other’s arms, laughing and talking to each other. The baby on her lap reaches up and touches her cheek and Travis’ mom doesn’t stop her complaining while she bends down and kisses the baby’s forehead.

And Travis is overcome with such a burst of jealousy and anger that he barely manages to mumble an excuse to end the call.

As he sits in the silence of his empty apartment, he tries reminding himself that things could be worse. He’s not sick and nobody he cares about has gotten sick. Nobody he cares about has died. He still has a job and he’s not having trouble paying his bills. His loneliness is the price he’s paying for all that and he knows it’s worth it. It really is.

But that doesn’t stop the heavy darkness in his heart from spreading further.

* * *

He’s at the point where he doesn’t even have the energy to fake enthusiasm when he’s with Wes. That doesn’t matter most of the time because ever since ‘the gate incident’, Wes is tightly sticking to their usual ‘only talk about work stuff’ rule that Travis had implemented months ago.

Travis still enjoys spending time with Wes when they’re driving around or investigating a case but it doesn’t help with his mood. The plexiglass divider in the car makes Travis feel just as isolated as he does in his apartment and the six feet of distance that they always maintain between them means Wes might as well be on another planet.

The worst part is that he can’t do anything about the situation. The governor’s orders are very clear: only people who are already living together are allowed to be in close proximity. They need to keep their bubbles as small as possible.

Travis’ bubble is made up of himself. That’s nobody’s fault but…

Travis can’t even wish that he were still as ignorant about the situation as he was back in March and April. Sometimes old friends will text him pictures of them partying and he’ll see stuff on social media where stupid people are throwing massive parties and spreading conspiracy theories about a ‘plandemic’ or whatever.

Because if he were still sticking his head into the sand and being selfish, he could have infected or even killed other people. He couldn’t live with that.

And he gets it, he really does. California’s little experiment with loosening restrictions back in June was the perfect reminder for why vaccination is the only way to end this thing. The virus is firmly entrenched in their population and if people keep socializing, it’ll keep getting passed around and around with no end in sight. If Travis starts partying before they’re all vaccinated, he’ll always be taking the same risks as he was at the beginning.

The virus doesn’t care that it’s been 7 months. It doesn’t care that even the people who have been trying really hard to do their part are now reaching the end of their ropes. It doesn’t matter that Travis feels sick all the time without actually being sick. There’s no early exit for him to take. There’s no ‘get out of jail’ Monopoly card that he can trade in once he’s reached his limit.

There’s nothing he can do except wait things out. But he’s at the point where he has no idea if he’ll even reach the end with the way things are going.


	4. Chapter 4

“—right after calling that unlisted number. Look at 11:32 on Wednesday, 7:15 on Friday and 10:30 on Saturday.”

“Uh huh.”

Wes sighs. It’s his ‘I’m-annoyed-with-Travis’ sigh. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

Travis blinks at his phone, that’s sitting next to the phone records and other case documents that are spread across his coffee table. “Nothing, I’m listening.”

“No, you’re not.”

Travis clenches his jaw, that familiar anger creeping through him. He seems to only have two emotional settings these days; anger and despair. He can also switch between them alarmingly quickly and often without making a decision to switch. “I’m listening! You pointed out that she always called that unlisted number right after calling her ex and that supports our ‘she was her ex’s drug mule’ theory and I agree with you. That’s why I said ‘uh huh’. That’s something people say when they’re agreeing with somebody else. Welcome to the English language.”

“Okay, fine, you were listening. But there’s still something wrong.”

Travis rolls his eyes, still angry despite Wes not deserving his temper. “Yeah, no shit. There’s this thing called a pandemic happening.”

“The pandemic’s been happening since March. It’s now October 2 and this is the third day in a row that you’re being moody. I’m not accusing you of not working hard because you are. But something’s bothering you and I think you should deal with it before it blows up and impacts your ability to work. If that means talking to me about it, so be it.”

Sighing, Travis scrubs his hands over his face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Obviously, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t because you and I agreed to only talk about work shit. This isn’t related to work so it doesn’t matter right now.”

Wes doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then: “How would you feel about changing that rule?”

Travis gapes at his phone. “You’re the one who throws a temper tantrum every time I try to ask something not related to a case! Ever since the stupid gate thing.”

“I was only sticking to the rule you implemented back in March! I wanted to talk to you about why I was stocking up on supplies and the prediction modeling information I looked up and you didn’t want to hear about it so _you_ decided we weren’t going to talk about stuff that’s not work.” Then Wes sighs loudly and before Travis can continue bickering, Wes surprises him by continuing but much more calmly than before. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don’t wanna keep bickering over who started what because that’s a waste of our time and it won’t fix what’s bothering you. So let’s just agree that we should go back to talking about whatever we want, okay?”

Travis doesn’t know how he feels about the sudden change. Unburdening himself to Wes might make him feel good temporarily, but it won’t fix the actual problem.

Wes lets out an annoyed sigh. “I can’t read your body language over the phone, Travis. Do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you or do you want to keep working?”

What Travis should do is tell Wes that they should email Kendall to trace that unlisted number. But that’s not what he says.

“I’m really struggling,” he mumbles.

“With what? Financially?” Wes sighs, annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No, my bills are fine. And no, I’m not sick. Not physically anyway.”

“What does that mean?” Wes sounds worried.

Travis sighs softly and grabs his phone before collapsing back on his couch, staring at the stupid happy people doing happy things on his TV screen. “The whole thing’s getting to me. Being stuck at home by myself day after day after day. I can’t go to the station, I can’t go out and party, I can’t go see my family. I haven’t—”

His throat is getting tight and he has no idea why he’s telling Wes this but he can’t seem to stop talking. “I haven’t touched anybody in six months and nobody’s touched me. Well, except if I’m tackling a suspect but that doesn’t count. Before this, I never went a single day without somebody touching me and it...not having that is making me feel like shit. I know that’s stupid cause I should be grateful that I’m not sick or dead, I still have my job, I have a place to live, food to eat. But I’m feeling worse every single day and when the health minister lady said this whole thing will last for another year...that’s been making me feel even worse. I guess it was easier to deal with when I thought I only had a few more weeks left. But we’re not even halfway done.”

His voice gets ridiculously shaky by the end of it and he blinks to fight back tears. There’s a painful lump in his throat and he takes a deep breath to get some control back. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

Wes doesn’t respond and Travis frowns at his phone. “Wes? You still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Travis?”

He clears is throat to try to get rid of that lump. It doesn’t work. “Yeah?”

“You’re home, right?”

Travis laughs but it’s an ugly laugh. “Where the fuck else would I be?”

“And you don’t have any flu symptoms?”

Now Travis is getting annoyed because he just spilled his guts out to Wes and he’s changing the subject. “No, I don’t. But thanks for giving a shit about my issues. I really appreciate your support. Means a lot.”

“I’ll call you in a bit, okay?”

And then Wes hangs up the phone.

Glaring at his phone, Travis resists the urge to throw it across the room. Well, fuck Wes.

He decides he’s riding his bike tomorrow and he’s going to email Kendall right now and purposefully not include Wes in the email. And he’s never telling Wes anything that’s not related to work again because fuck him.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Travis’ phone rings and it’s Wes. When he answers, he’s about to demand an apology, but Wes is talking before he can get a word out.

“Come outside.”

Travis frowns at his phone. “What? Why?”

“You’re not supposed to socialize with anybody outside your bubble, right? But I’m part of your bubble. Well, sort of. But anyway, I think it’s okay. Put on your mask and come outside.”

He has no idea what the hell Wes is talking about, but he’s tired of sitting on his couch and getting into arguments with Wes over the phone so he decides a change in scenery will be nice. So he puts on a mask and his shoes and stomps out of his apartment.

When he gets outside, Wes is standing on the sidewalk, next to his car. He’s wearing his mask and gloves and his eyes are wide. He looks nervous, which is stupid. The jerk shouldn’t be looking nervous, he should be looking sad for being a jerk.

Travis walks over to him and opens his mouth to make another attempt to get an apology, but again, Wes says something that leaves Travis confused.

“Hold your breath, okay?”

The last bit of Travis’ control snaps and that anger flares to life. “What?! What the fuck is wrong with you? I spill my guts out, I tell you I’m having a really hard time and you hang up on me, order me outside and now you’re telling me not to breathe? Fuck you, man. I can breathe whenever I want.”

Wes gives him an impatient look. “I’m going to hug you, idiot. But that’s going to break the physical distancing guidelines so I’ll only do it if you hold your breath. I’ll do it too.”

Wes is going to what?!

Maybe misunderstanding Travis’ frown, Wes blinks rapidly and takes a step back, looking even more nervous. “If you don’t want me to, that’s fine. I just thought...well, it seemed like a good idea. Sort of. Maybe not.”

Wes is serious. The crazy bastard got into his car, drove all the way over here and he’s willing to break the sacred six foot rule just to give Travis a hug because he’s touch starved and sad. “You’re serious?”

“Well, yeah. I’m pretty much your safest option, right? And if it’ll make you feel better, than I’m willing to do it.”

He makes it sound so simple. Like he didn’t throw a fit a week ago when one of the CSIs—who was basically dressed in a hazmat suit—came within five feet of him while taking a blood sample at a scene. And Wes is offering to hug Travis.

Travis has a million questions and worries, but none of them matter more than accepting what Wes is offering. “Okay.”

Wes nods, looking as serious as if they’re about to enter an armed suspect’s house. He opens his arms. “Okay. I’ll count to three and we’ll both hold our breaths, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s a sign of how fucked the entire world has become that Travis isn’t thinking about how strange the situation is. Instead, he listens to Wes counting down and when he reaches one, Travis sucks in a deep breath and steps into Wes’ arms.

And oh, it’s heaven. He wraps his arms tightly around Wes, relishing how warm and solid he feels. Wes is as stiff as a board but he wraps tense arms around Travis’ back and tightens them slowly, like somebody’s turning up the dial in Wes’ head.

Holding his breath, Travis closes his eyes and puts his head on Wes’ shoulder, keeping his face turned away from him. It feels so nice. Wes is warm and his clothes are soft and his arms are wrapped around Travis and he soaks it in like he’s a dry sponge that’s been dropped into a bucket of water.

But breathing eventually becomes an issue and Wes is getting stiffer and his stomach muscles are shifting against Travis, so he releases Wes and quickly steps back until they’re standing six feet apart again before they’re both sucking in deep breaths through their masks.

It’s hard to breathe deeply through the stupid mask so Travis steps even further back and turns away from Wes before tugging the mask under his nose so he can breathe properly. But once he’s okay, he puts the mask back on and pinches the metal strip.

“Ready to go again?” Wes asks. And he really means it.

That question does something funny to Travis’ heart and he’s nodding without thinking about it.

“Okay, I’ll count down.”

* * *

They hug two more times and every time they’re done and catching their breath, Wes asks “Again?” and Travis knows without a doubt that Wes would stand here on the sidewalk for hours and keep hugging Travis as long as he wants.

The whole thing is fantastic and Travis can’t believe he has Wes in his life. It’s one thing to have Wes sharing his precious stockpile of supplies with Travis and allowing Travis back into his car. But Wes doesn’t hug people, especially during a pandemic. The pandemic is the perfect excuse for Wes to enforce his ‘no touching’ rule even more than he usually does. And he’s been doing that with everybody else...yet here they are.

But it doesn’t matter how good the hugging made Travis feel because Wes has stopped looking nervous and now he’s back to looking exhausted, which is normal these days. Wes has been taking care of Travis and now it’s time for Travis to return the favor. So the next time Wes asks “Again?”, Travis shakes his head with a smile.

“I’m good. Thanks.” He stares at Wes, hoping his smile is reaching his eyes behind his mask. “I mean it. You have no idea how much I needed that and I know that was hard for you.”

Wes stares at him, his face blank. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“We can do that whenever you want. Well, not when we’re at a scene. And only outside where there’s plenty of air circulation.”

Travis grins. “Sure. Thanks.”

In the grand scheme of things, this small thing shouldn’t make a massive difference, but it really does. If hugs from Wes is all the physical contact he’s going to get from now until next fall, Travis will happily take it. He’s so starved for physical contact that it’ll be enough. He’ll make sure it’s enough.

And it won’t be hard to make it be enough. He feels so much better already. But his eyes catch on Wes’ pale, exhausted face and that means it’s time to get Wes heading back home. “You should head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But to Travis’ surprise, Wes doesn’t nod and head towards his car. Instead, a brief flash of devastation flickers across Wes’ face before he catches it. He’s trying to look impassive, his gloved hands are clenching and unclenching and he’s staring at Travis with wide eyes, as if he’s hoping Travis will read his mind.

Unfortunately, Travis can’t. Well, sometimes he can. But his head’s still fuzzy with good feelings from the hugs and excitement about getting more hugs. But Wes looks miserable and his eyes seem to be begging Travis for help but Travis has no idea what Wes wants to be rescued from. Travis feels like he should know, but his brain isn’t working right. “What’s wrong?”

Wes blinks and Travis steels himself to hear the usual “Nothing”, which will be followed by Travis pulling out the big guns.

But for the hundredth time that day, Wes surprises him.

“I’m...having a hard time too.”

The admission is so unexpected that Travis gapes at Wes. But Wes looks so miserable and exhausted that Travis knows Wes is basically at the end of his rope. That’s the only reason he’d blurt out something like that and let Travis see the sadness on his face.

Instantly, Travis’ brain kicks into gear and he starts putting the pieces together. There’s no doubt this is connected to ‘the gate incident’. The gate thing was a small glimpse into Wes’ situation but Travis let Wes push him out of his business and he’d used his own problems to justify staying out of it.

But Wes is freely admitting—without Travis poking and prodding him about it—that he’s not doing well. In all the years Travis has known him, Wes has never volunteered such personal information about himself, especially without some force being applied.

It means the situation’s bad. Very bad. Like, similar to Travis’ situation. Potentially worse.

Travis nearly walks closer to Wes but remembers the six feet at the last second and stays where he is. “This is connected to the gate cleaning thing, right?”

Wes nods, his face complete misery. “Yeah. I can’t get out of my head. I’m all by myself for days at a time and there’s nobody around to help me or even distract me. I’m...things are getting worse and I can’t stop and I only have time to sleep four hours a night. It isn’t...I don’t know what to do, Travis.”

Wes’ voice is thin, shaky. He sounds scared and miserable.

Travis’ heart aches at the pain in his voice as his mind spins to pick apart the cryptic clues Wes is giving him. This is connected to Wes’ OCD. The OCD that’s always been closely connected to cleaning and a fear of germs and getting sick. Add Wes’ uncontrolled OCD together with living through a pandemic and it’s a recipe for disaster.

Travis grabs onto Wes’ words:

_“I only have time to sleep four hours a night”_

It probably means whatever bullshit Wes’ OCD is forcing him to do, it’s taking up more and more of his time, preventing him from getting enough sleep and that’s why Wes is getting more exhausted as time goes by.

Maybe Wes saw that same news segment back in September where the health minister told everybody that things will keep going until next fall. Wes probably had the same feeling of despair that Travis did, but for different reasons. If Wes is already struggling and he’s already exhausted and he’s at the point where he’s asking Travis for help, it means Wes is getting seriously worried about the situation.

Travis’ brain is whirling along, trying to come up with ways to help him when Wes spends most of his time locked up in his fortress all alone, but Wes takes a deep breath and keeps talking.

“I have a possible solution to both of our problems.”

Good. “Let’s hear it.”

Wes is staring at him, his eyes huge. “You could come live with me.”

Out of all the crazy ideas Travis was prepared to hear, that wasn’t on the list. At all. “What?”

“It makes sense. Well, I think it makes sense. Maybe you don’t. But...anyway. We already spend time together so we’re part of each other’s bubbles. You need somebody close by to hug you and...whatever else. And I need somebody around so I won’t be alone in my head. I think it makes sense. But if you don’t, that’s okay.”

He gapes at Wes. “Are you serious?!”

“Travis, I lost the ability to joke about things back in March. So yes, I’m serious.”

The world is already crazy, but Travis thinks he’s suddenly in an alternate reality. “You’d seriously let me live with you?! During a pandemic?”

“Yes. It’s...Travis, I’m at the point where I’m desperate. I can’t...I can’t keep doing this by myself. I just can’t.”

Wes’ voice is tight and his eyes are shimmering. He sounds close to tears and he’s shaking a bit. It makes the whole thing more real and Travis knows how desperate Wes must feel to be making this offer.

And Wes isn’t the only one who’s desperate around here. Travis wants to jump into Wes’ car and go home with home so badly that he has to work hard to keep his feet glued to the sidewalk. Because living with Wes will mean having company while he’s eating, having somebody to hug and get hugs from whenever he wants, having somebody sitting next to him while they’re watching a game re-run on TV.

But this is Wes. That means whatever Travis is picturing in his head, it won’t be like that. And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Wes probably hasn’t thought this through. “Baby, listen. We’re gonna fix both of our problems, that’s gonna be top priority from now on. But I don’t think you’ve thought this through. And honestly, the last thing I need is to get excited about having a roommate but then things fall apart and I’ll lose a roommate, my partner and my best friend.”

But Wes is shaking his head. “I’ve thought it through and I think it’ll work.”

Travis is still doubtful. “It’s not gonna work if you’ve got everything covered in plastic and you freak out when I wanna touch something. And I’m not gonna wear a hazmat suit the whole time and if you want me staying in my part of the house and you stay in yours, it’s not gonna solve our problems. It’ll probably make things worse.”

Wes starts looking desperate. “Only the couch is covered in plastic—”

Which isn’t reassuring at all. But Wes continues.

“And you wouldn’t have to wear a hazmat suit. I think if we wear masks and stay six feet apart, I’d be fine with that. The house has three bedrooms so you could have your own bedroom and your own bathroom but I’d be fine sharing the other parts of the house. I...” Wes sucks in a sharp breath. “I want you in the rest of the house. I wanna spend more time together.”

It actually does sound like Wes has spent time thinking about this. But Travis is still worried. “This isn’t gonna be easy. We’re dealing with a lot of stress and both of us aren’t doing good. The only way this is gonna work is if we work hard to keep things good between us.”

Wes is nodding frantically. “I’ll follow all of Dr. Ryan’s rules, I promise. Talking, not yelling. Listening properly. Respecting your opinions. Compromising on stuff that’s important to you. All that stuff. If you do the same, I think we’ll be okay.”

Travis is left stunned. This is pretty much the most mature and open conversation they’ve ever had. And it’s no secret why. Both of them are at the end of their ropes and they’re desperate for things to get better.

Wes is staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes, shifting back and forth on his feet. “So? What do you think?”

Travis doesn’t have to keep thinking about it. Living with Wes isn’t something he’s ever thought about but now that Wes has promised that he’s going to be a good roommate, Travis likes everything about this plan. It’s the perfect solution to both their problems.

Well, hopefully. There’s still a chance that things will go horribly wrong and blow up in their faces. But they’re both desperate enough to give it a shot and traditionally, they’ve always managed to work well together if shit hits the fan. “Let’s do it.”

Wes’ face lights up in a relieved smile. “Okay. I’ll help you carry your stuff. We’ll load up my car and you’ll drive your bike.”


	5. Chapter 5

Travis hasn’t seen Wes’ house before and he’s left stunned at how huge it is when he gets to the top of the steep driveway. The house is completely dark and it creeps Travis out a bit. He can’t believe Wes has been living in this enormous house all by himself for months.

Then he has to focus because Wes starts laying down his pandemic-house-rules as soon as he’s parked in the garage.

“We don’t go in through the garage,” Wes explains, like that’s how normal people live. “We park in the garage then we go in through the front door.”

Travis doesn’t even have time to get over how stupid that is because Wes is already heading for the open garage door. Travis follows along and they walk around to the front of the house and step inside, where he’s greeted by a sheet of plexiglass that’s been installed across the front hall. There’s a hinged part in the glass, which must be a door to access the rest of the house. Through the plexiglass, Travis can see some rooms branching off and a huge, wooden staircase that leads upstairs. On their side of the plexiglass is a small storage room, which is where Wes directs Travis to go before he shuts the door behind them.

The room contains nothing but shelves, all of which are filled with boxes of garbage bags, containers of wet wipes and rows and rows of disinfectant spray.

And this is just a small storage room at the start of Wes’ house. That creepy feeling is getting a lot stronger.

“Okay, strip. Quickly.” Wes is shoving an empty garbage at him. “And put everything in there. Hurry.”

Wes’ voice sounds frantic and his eyes are a bit wild so Travis doesn’t think and just follows the order until he’s wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and mask. It’s weird to be standing in the small room with Wes, who’s also down to his underwear.

Then Wes is shoving a container of wipes at him. “Wipe yourself down. Use as many as you need.”

At first, Travis just does his hands but Wes frowns and looks annoyed when Travis snaps the lid of the wipes container closed.

“Wipe everywhere, Travis. Not...not your groin area. But everywhere else. Hurry.”

He sounds frantic and his hands are shaking as he keeps tugging more wipes out of his own container and wiping his legs.

It’s on the tip of Travis’ tongue to point out that Wes is being ridiculous. The only part of Travis that’s been exposed to the outside is half of his face, his head and his hands. There’s no need to clean his chest or legs or any other part of him that was covered by several layers of clothes.

But Wes looks so anxious and Travis decides to change tactics. This stupid, over the top cleaning ritual is probably just the tip of the iceberg that Wes has been dealing with and there’s no way Travis can deal with all the problems Wes has accumulated since March in one night. Plus, Wes will probably get angry if Travis isn’t following his over the top rules and he might throw Travis out and that’ll lead to even more problems. If Travis lets Wes push him out, Wes will probably isolate himself even more and Travis gets a tight clench in his gut at the thought of how badly all this could end if he doesn’t manage to help Wes.

No, Travis has to take this slow. Wes’ crazy behavior hasn’t popped up over night and if Travis goes in too aggressively, Wes will panic and lash out defensively, which will make him cling to what his OCD is telling him even harder. This is gonna take time and patience. The first thing Travis has to do is gather as much intel as possible. That means playing along and pretending that everything Wes is asking him to do is perfectly normal.

So he thoroughly wipes himself down, inwardly cringing at all the wipes he’s wasting. But he dutifully puts all the used wipes into a separate garbage bag, then he swaps out his barely-used-and-still-perfectly-good mask for a new one and puts the old one into the used wipes bag too.

Then he follows Wes’ instructions to put his wipes/mask garbage bag into two more garbage bags—barely managing not to cry at the waste—and tying each one up before adding a new layer. His clothes get triple bagged too.

Once Travis confirms for the dozenth time that yes, he’s wiped everywhere and yes, he’d tied up the bags properly, they finally leave the storage room. They stop at the door in the plexiglass and Wes points at a small ornamental table that’s sitting against the wall. It holds a container of wipes and a box of garbage bags and Travis tries not to sigh.

“Do the bottom of your feet and triple bag the wipes. Don’t worry, they’re small garbage bags so it’s not a waste.”

Travis has to bite his tongue hard and he manages to let out a tight “Uh huh” before he’s wiping his feet and making them disappear in three small garbage bags.

Then Wes opens the door in the plexiglass and finally, Travis is allowed to step into Wes’ house. It’s an odd feeling because on one hand, he’s the first person Wes has let into his new house in this pandemic world and that’s a huge deal. But on the other hand, Travis is dreading what’s to come because if Wes has turned entering his house into a twenty minute ritual, there’s no telling what else he’s been doing.

Wes is rushing past him, carrying all of their garbage bags. He stops by one room in the hallway and throws the larger bags that contain their clothes inside before shutting the door and continuing to another door, where he throws the used wipes bags. “Garage,” he calls over to Travis as a way of explanation. “I usually put them in the dumpster when I go out to the car in the morning.”

Because of course Wes has a dumpster instead of normal sized garbage cans. Because he’s producing so much damn waste that he’d constantly be getting fined by the city if he didn’t pay for a dumpster load. It’s another thing that’s going on Travis’ list of ‘stupid things Wes’ OCD is making him do’. The list is already alarmingly long.

Wes is hurrying back towards him and he points up the stairs. “Come upstairs and I’ll give you some clothes to borrow. I’ll throw our clothes into the wash once I’ve started dinner.”

Travis is about to point out that he has spare clothes in Wes’ car...but then he realizes that going out to the car to get his clothes or any of his other stuff would probably mean going through the whole cleaning ritual again. Since this day’s already taken a lot out of him and he has to conserve enough sanity and patience to get through the rest of the evening, he decides he can live without his stuff for now.

But he feels bad that Wes is going to be washing his clothes while also giving Travis his own clothes. “You want me to do the wash? I can probably figure out your machines.”

Even though Wes is walking ahead of him on the stairs, Travis can see how he stiffens instantly. “No, it’s okay. I have to do it in a certain way or it won’t be right and then I have to redo it and it’ll take forever. Don’t worry about it. Doing the laundry is part of the list and I’m used to it.”

Those words are full of red flags, but the one Travis focuses on is Wes’ casual reference to ‘the list’. It’s not something Wes has mentioned before but Travis is getting a bad feeling that he’s not going to like the list.

Following Wes up the stairs is both a good and bad thing. Since they’re both practically naked, Travis thought he’d be focusing on Wes’ ass but his eyes keep catching on the rest of Wes and it’s clear that he’s lost weight.

“You need to put on some weight, man,” Travis says, trying to keep his tone light.

Wes stiffens again as they keep walking with Travis making sure he’s maintaining six feet of space between them. “Yeah. I haven’t had enough time to eat properly. You’ve lost weight too.”

Travis sighs. “Yeah. I haven’t been hungry lately.”

Both their responses pretty much sum up the problems they’re dealing with.

* * *

After bringing Travis into his bedroom and giving him some clothes to borrow, Wes takes him on a short tour.

The sheer size of the house still leaves Travis gaping, but it also becomes clear that Wes doesn’t have a huge emotional attachment to it. All the rooms have furniture, but it’s the bare minimum that each room needs so that it’ll earn the title of serving the function Wes assigned to it. Each bedroom has a bed, dresser, bedside table and standing lamp, along with the built-in closet. And the furniture in each of the bedrooms is exactly the same and arranged in the exact same way. There aren’t any pictures or other decorative touches. It’s like Wes filled the house out of a sense of obligation, rather than a desire to make a home.

It’s also a bit creepy that all three bedrooms have the beds made in the exact same way. If Wes hadn’t opened the closet in one of the bedrooms to pull out clothes for them, Travis would have no idea which bedroom Wes is actually using.

All three bedrooms have ensuite bathrooms and they all have the same sets of towels hanging on the racks, folded in exactly the same way. It’s also bizarre that all three bathrooms have the same toiletries in them, laid out in the exact same way. It reminds Travis of being in a hotel and he wonders if maybe Wes’ OCD was influenced by living in a hotel for so long.

It’s so stupid that Wes has taken time to buy bathroom crap for two bathrooms that he’s not even using. But in this case it actually works out well because Travis will definitely be able to avoid going out to the car tonight.

“You can choose which of the two bedrooms you want. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

Things are less creepy downstairs because the bathroom down there has a different set up and the other rooms all serve different purposes. But the dining room has the same barely-lived-in and creepy feel that the bedrooms have. There’s a long dining table and eight chairs spaced at perfect intervals—Travis has a bad feeling that if he gets out a ruler, they probably have the same distance between them—but nothing else. The only rooms that look like they have a bit more life to them are the living room, den, kitchen and office.

The den is actually kind of impressive because Wes has turned it into a giant pantry. He’s installed floor to ceiling shelving on all the walls and he’s even put up shelving units in the middle of the room. This is where his stockpile lives and it’s really kind of cool looking. Everything non-perishable that Wes could possibly need is here in this room and all the shelves are stuffed full. Everything’s arranged in sections, just like in a grocery store and there are clipboards hanging on the shelves which Wes probably uses to do inventory. It’s like a mini grocery store. Normally, Travis would roll his eyes at it, but he keeps flashing back to the stripped grocery store shelves he saw back in March and it makes him look at the room a lot more fondly than he would otherwise. Wes’ giant pantry has helped Travis out a couple of times already and who knows what the future holds? So Travis decides he likes the pantry.

The kitchen counter has a few appliances on it, which also makes Travis feel better. Even if Wes is treating most of the house as an obligation, at least he’s doing things he likes in the kitchen. Or at least, Travis hopes he is.

The living room has a large L-shaped couch that’s been covered in plastic. There’s a coffee table in front of it and a huge TV hangs on the wall. It’s way too little furniture for the huge room, but there are slight crinkles in the plastic sheets covering the couch so Travis can at least tell that Wes sometimes uses this room.

The office shows the most signs of life. There are two identical desks and Travis feels relief when he recognizes Wes’ laptop, the stacks of case files with familiar names written on the edges and the pen holder full of identical pens. It looks exactly like Wes’ desk at work usually looks.

Wes is shifting around nervously. “You can take one of the desks, obviously. I bought two office chairs because I bought two desks but I haven’t put the other one together. You can have that one.” He points at a box that’s in the corner.

If this were a normal situation, Travis would laugh at Wes and make fun of him for buying two chairs just because he’d ordered two desks, but nothing about this situation is funny. “Okay, thanks.”

* * *

Unfortunately, once their tour ends, Wes checks his watch and things change. His jaw shifts around and he looks anxious as he directs Travis to sit in the living room and watch TV while he makes dinner.

“I’m already way behind so I have to speed up or I’m not gonna get any sleep.”

Again, Travis catches himself before he can say anything. The number of things that have to change in Wes’ life is growing by the second but Travis is starving and confronting Wes about his OCD before either of them has eaten is a bad move.

So he dutifully sits on the uncomfortable plastic covered couch and turns on the TV.

To his surprise, Wes appears a moment later, holding a towel that he tosses at Travis. “Here. You can sit on that if you find the plastic uncomfortable. But please throw the towel into the laundry room before you go up to bed tonight.”

Despite how weird and stupid the situation is—why the hell does the towel need to be cleaned?!—Travis is touched by the gesture. Wes looks frantic and he’s already running off to the kitchen, but despite being ‘way behind’ with his usual routine, he still took the time to make sure Travis is comfortable.

As Travis spreads out the towel underneath him and flicks through channels, he smiles grimly behind his mask. Wes’ OCD has no idea what’s coming. Travis is going to patiently and expertly wriggle his way into Wes’ head the same way the OCD did but there’s a huge difference. Travis cares about Wes and knows him a lot better than the stupid OCD does so there’s no question that Travis will win.

* * *

Wes’ cooking is fantastic, as it always is. Unfortunately, Travis can’t take the time to savor it because he’s sitting on one end of the long dining table in the creepy too-empty dining room and Wes is sitting way at the other end. Not only that, but Wes is inhaling his food and constantly checking his watch with a pinched, stressed look on his face.

At first, Travis thinks he can take his time to enjoy his dinner but after Wes has polished off his food in about five minutes, he stays sitting at his end of the table, staring at Travis’ plate with a frantic look on his face. Travis realizes Wes’ manners probably won’t let him leave the table until Travis is done and there’s no telling what else they have to get through tonight, so Travis hurries through his dinner and puts his mask back on once he’s done and he heads back to the living room after his offer to help clean up is politely refused.

He hears Wes banging around in the kitchen and he’s in there way longer than it should take to throw some dishes into the dishwasher so Travis wanders in after twenty minutes have passed.

He finds Wes frantically scrubbing the cabinet doors, wearing a tool belt around his waist where he’s got spray bottles of disinfectant, rolls of paper towel and containers of wipes hanging.

There’s an open binder on the counter top and Travis casually wanders closer to take a look at it. He has a sinking feeling that he knows what it is and those suspicions turn out to be right.

It’s ‘the list’.

The neatly typed page is filled with a table that contains row after row of to-do things. There’s a space at the top where Wes has written today’s date. The table on this page is labeled as ‘kitchen’ and it lists about a dozen different items. Disinfect counter top. Disinfect sink, faucets and taps. Disinfect cabinet doors. Disinfect appliances. Disinfect appliances (second pass). Disinfect appliance handles (third pass) and cabinet handles (second pass). Disinfect contents of fridge. Disinfect floor.

Each item is followed by a check box that’s waiting to be marked off. And worst of all, there’s a neat little page number at the bottom of the page, marking this as page 1 of 10.

All of it makes Travis feel a bit panicked and also sick. The binder is completely full of papers and Travis is itching with the urge to flip to the front of the binder to find out how long Wes has been doing this insanity. This binder represents the hell Wes has been living in for months, sinking deeper and deeper into this mess because he hasn’t had anybody to help him.

“That’s the list,” Wes tells him as he’s getting off the step ladder and moving it over a bit so he can reach the next set of cabinet doors. “Don’t worry, I’ll go up and do your bedroom and bathroom next so you can go to bed once I’m done. I don’t think I’ll be too noisy so you won’t have trouble sleeping.”

The fact that Wes is prioritizing Travis’ well being while he’s suffering makes Travis feel even worse. The whole thing makes him want to cry. He wants to throw the stupid binder out the window, pull Wes into his arms and go sit on the couch with him and watch something silly on TV until they go to bed. He wants to see Wes smile and be happy again.

But it’s too early to interfere. It’s already 9 pm and he wants to see how much control Wes has over his OCD. If he’ll stop when it gets too late. If he’s willing to leave out some steps. Travis needs to see what he’s dealing with.

So he pastes a strained smile on his face that’s thankfully hidden behind his mask. “Nah, it’s fine. Do things in the normal order and I’ll go to bed when you’re done.”

Wes freezes before twisting around on the step ladder and staring at him. “Travis, I’m way behind and I’m probably not gonna get any sleep tonight. It’s stupid if you don’t get sleep either. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Wes is so far from fine that neither of them can even see it. He wants to tell Wes that they’ll fix this. That they’ll figure out how to get this stupid disease out of his head and give Wes his life back. But he needs to wait. Wes is still energetic and frantic, completely consumed by doing his OCD’s bidding. At this point, Travis would have a vicious fight on his hands if he interferes. He needs to wait.

So he goes back to the living room to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

By 2 am, Wes is still going. He’s cleaned the living room—with Travis patiently standing in the doorway until he was done—and the dining room, pantry, office and bathroom. Now he’s upstairs, doing the bedrooms and bathrooms.

It quickly becomes apparent that Wes’ lack of decorating might be partially due to a lack of emotional attachment to the house, but the minimal amount of furnishing has a big bonus: it makes cleaning faster than it could be. Travis can’t imagine how long the process would take if he had little decorative crap all over the place and paintings hanging on every wall. That plastic covering the couch also makes sense because Wes just wipes the plastic sheet—doing three passes because apparently, it’s one of the danger zones—and he doesn’t have to fuss with the fabric.

Of course, none of this makes sense and none of it’s okay. But Travis can tell how Wes has tried fighting back against his mental illness the only way he knew how. He couldn’t convince himself to cut corners by not cleaning something, but he could minimize the number of things in the house and make everything as easy to clean as possible. Looking at it that way actually leaves Travis impressed.

But Travis is always careful to keep things in perspective. While it’s great that Wes has tried making things as easy for himself as possible, this whole cleaning ritual is stupid and pointless. Wes has thoroughly disinfected himself and Travis before they’d come through the plexiglass barrier, so there’s no point in cleaning every single surface in the rest of the house, especially doing it every single day.

By 3 am, Travis is exhausted and if he’s exhausted, he can’t imagine how tired Wes is. And if Wes is tired, that means he’ll be more willing to listen to Travis. That means it’s time to put a stop to this stupid crap and get Wes and himself to bed.

So he wanders upstairs and finds Wes in the spare bathroom—not the one Travis is going to use—with a cleaning brush in his hand and he’s frantically scrubbing the shower wall. But he’s not doing large passes over the entire wall. Instead, he’s scrubbing each small tile one by one, using the same methodical routine for each one.

Wes’ hand is shaking and he’s kneeling in the tub, wearing knee pads. His shoulders are slumped from exhaustion and even though Travis can’t see his face, he can tell how tired and miserable he is. It makes Travis’ heart ache and it’s definitely time for Travis to start the tricky process of pulling Wes out of this dark mess that he’s sunken into. “Wes?”

Wes twists around. His eyes are red and twitching above his mask and he looks like he’s about to fall asleep right there in the tub. “Go to bed, Travis,” he mumbles, the words muffled due to the mask and how tired he is. “I’m on page eight so I’m almost done. It’s gonna take me about—” He scans the shower wall above him and Travis can see his shoulders slump a bit with despair. “—twenty minutes to finish the shower wall, then I gotta do the handles one more time and the floor and then I’ll be on page nine.”

Even his voice is filled with exhaustion.

Travis casually leans against the doorway. “That’s great, but why do you have to do this bathroom?”

Wes frowns at him. “Cause it’s on page eight.”

“Right. But why did you add it to the list?”

“Because it has to be cleaned and if I don’t put everything on the list then I miss things when I get tired and I have to start all over again because I forget what I did and didn’t do. Trust me, things used to be really bad before I started using the list. It keeps things organized.”

“I’m not asking why you made the list. I’m asking why this bathroom has to be on the list.”

“I already told you. Because it has to be cleaned.” Wes sighs and briefly closes his eyes, his face pinched with misery. “Travis, I’m really tired and you distracting me is making things take longer.”

“But why does it have to be cleaned? When the hell did it get dirty?”

Wes’ jaw shifts behind his mask and Travis can tell he’s getting annoyed. “We’re living in a pandemic!”

“I know that. But you’re the only one who’s ever touched this bathroom and you only touch it when you’re cleaning it and you’re wearing gloves and a mask and none of your clothes were outside. There’s no part of you that could be carrying the virus so how the hell did the bathroom get dirty or infected?”

Wes glares at him, but it’s a very weak glare. “I can’t just clean the other two bathrooms and not this one!”

Travis keeps pushing. The fact that Wes has switched his argument so quickly is a good sign. It means he’s not fully committed to what he was saying earlier and he’s probably recognizing the logic in Travis’ words. “Why not?”

“Because.”

Travis raises his eyebrows. “Seriously, man? Dr. Ryan would give you minus points for that answer and you know it.”

Wes’ glare darkens. He looks like he’s gearing up for a fight but after a moment, Travis can see the fire drain out of him. Like Travis had predicted, Wes is too tired to fight back and that’s good. Because Travis isn’t really arguing with Wes, he’s arguing with Wes’ OCD and Wes’ body is too exhausted to keep going.

“Just please go away and let me finish,” Wes mumbles behind his mask. “I’m really tired.”

Travis doesn’t say anything but he also doesn’t move.

Wes does something where it looks like he’s trying to roll his eyes but he’s too tired to do it right. Then he lifts the stupid scrubbing brush and turns back to the wall to keep going.

But something’s wrong. Wes isn’t going back to the tile where he’d stopped. Instead, he’s looking around the small section of tiles in front of him and his shoulders are tightening as his breathing picks up speed in the silence of the bathroom.

Then Wes slumps against the tiled wall and lets out a choked sound, like he’s in physical pain.

Alarmed, Travis takes a few steps closer, his hands itching to grab Wes and comfort him. But that would probably stress Wes out even more so he restrains himself. “What’s wrong?”

Wes whispers something in a choked voice but add in the muffling from the mask and Travis can’t understand him. “Say it again. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t remember which tile I was on,” he says, sounding both frustrated and devastated, like he can’t believe he’d made such a mistake.

If this were any other situation, Travis would laugh at how stupid Wes sounds. But none of this is funny because Travis has a sinking feeling that he knows what this means. “What does that mean?”

For a moment, Wes doesn’t answer. He’s shaking and his shoulders are tense as he grips the scrubbing brush hard. “It means I have to start the whole wall again,” Wes says.

Travis frowns. He doesn’t want Wes to finish scrubbing the wall, but he also doesn’t understand why Wes is turning this small situation into a big deal. “Why? I kind of remember where you were so you can pick up from there.”

But Wes is shaking his head, drawing in a choked breath. “That’s not good enough,” he chokes out, his voice shaking. “I won’t know for sure that I did every single tile and I won’t be able to sleep until I do. The only way to do it right is to start over.” Every word is drenched in misery and Wes slumps back against the side of the tub. “I’m so damn tired and my wrists hurt and I can’t start over again but I have to.”

Travis’ heart is racing and he’s shaking with the need to do something. To help Wes somehow. It’s 3 in the morning and Wes looks so small and vulnerable, slumped in the tub. “Wes, tell me what you need. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

There’s nothing for a while as Wes stares at the huge wall towering above him. Then: “I don’t know. If I knew, I would have done it already.” The words aren’t angry; they’re full of dejection, like Wes is putting into words something he’s been feeling for a long time.

Without being aware of it, Travis’ feet are carrying him closer to the tub and he’s kneeling down next to it and reaching out, gently putting his hands on Wes’ back.

To his surprise, Wes reaches over his shoulder and tightly grabs one of his hands. It pulls Travis closer to him and he presses his face between Wes’ shoulder blades. He’s worried that Wes will freak out any second because they’re both breathing and there’s no physical distancing whatsoever. But Wes either forgot about his earlier worries or he decided it’s a small price to pay because he transfers his hand to the back of Travis’ head, wordlessly begging him to stay where he is.

The hard edge of the tub is digging into Travis’ stomach and his knees are aching from kneeling on the tiled floor, but he stays where he is, breathing against Wes’ back. Slowly, he lifts his arms and wraps them around Wes’ front, holding him. It’s a really uncomfortable position due to the tub being between them and Travis knows Wes isn’t comfortable either, but Wes is pressing back against the side of the tub, trying to get closer to Travis, so he stays where he is.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Travis whispers against Wes’ back, rubbing his chest through his shirt.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Wes chokes out, his voice shaking. “I’m so tired and I hate this house and I hate everything that’s happening and I want it to stop.”

“We’re gonna figure it out, I promise.”

Wes’ hand presses harder against the back of Travis’ head. His hand’s shaking, like he’s terrified that Travis will suddenly change his mind and walk out.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Travis soothes, tightening his grip on him. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna figure out how to get this thing out of your head and make things better, I promise.”

“I can’t fight this thing on my own,” Wes mumbles. “I tried really hard but things are getting worse and I’m scared it’s gonna kill me.”

“It’s not gonna kill you cause I won’t let it. We’re gonna figure this out and I’m gonna be right beside you, every second of every day until we get this under control.”

Wes keeps shaking and that won’t get them out of the tub so Travis climbs into the tub with him, crouching next to him and putting his hands on Wes’ face, turning his face so they’re looking at each other as he rubs the mask covering his cheeks. “You’re stronger than your OCD. I know you don’t believe that, but I know. And I’m stronger than your OCD too so if we team up, it’s got no chance. You hear me? No chance.”

Wes still looks scared so Travis tightens his grip on his face. “When we team up to get something done, do we ever lose? Huh?”

It takes a second, but Wes eventually shakes his head.

Travis grins. “No, we don’t and we’re not starting now. We’re gonna make a plan and we’re gonna beat this thing.”

Wes is still shaking, but he looks calmer. He also looks relieved and hopeful.

Carefully standing up and trying not to wince at his sore stomach and knees, Travis pulls Wes up with him. “Come on, get out of the tub. We’re gonna go to bed.”

“But I’m on page eight.” Wes is mumbling the words, but he doesn’t sound committed at all.

Travis steps out of the tub and helps Wes climb out on shaky legs. He leads Wes to the counter where the binder is waiting. Not pausing, he grabs the pen and viciously draws a big X across page eight before writing the word ‘NO’ across the neatly typed table. Wes is clinging to his arm and he makes a panicked sound at what Travis is doing and his grip on Travis’ arm tightens, but Wes doesn’t stop him.

Travis repeats the same thing on pages nine and ten. Then he flips the binder closed and throws it and the pen into the tub. “There. You’re done for the night. Time for bed.”

Wes looks shocked, like he can’t figure out what to think. Travis uses it to his advantage and steers him out of the bathroom and towards Wes’ bedroom. Once they’re inside, Travis pulls open the closet. “Find us clothes to sleep in.”

Without a word, Wes steps forward and pulls two shirts and soft, loose pants out.

Travis takes one set out of his hands and pulls his shirt over his head. “Come on, get changed. Then it’s bed time.”

Wes looks numb with exhaustion and he gets changed, his hands shaking. When he’s done, he holds his old clothes bundled up in his arms. “I gotta put our clothes in the wash,” he mumbles.

Travis pulls Wes’ clothes out of his arms. “Not happening.”

Wes stiffens and his eyes flare with panic so Travis hurries to find a compromise. “I’ll take the clothes downstairs and put them in the machine but I won’t turn it on.”

“But they need to be washed.”

“Wes. Did we wear these clothes outside?”

“No. But—”

“So how did the clothes get infected?”

Wes blinks and his eyes roam around. His hands are twitching but then his exhausted eyes meet Travis’. “They couldn’t have. That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Then Wes sighs softly and briefly squeezes his eyes shut. “Travis, I get it, I really do. But if I leave the clothes out, I won’t be able to sleep. I need—I just—I can’t. Please.”

“That’s why I’m gonna go lock them in the machine. Tomorrow, we’ll decide what to do with them, okay?”

Wes’ tired eyes drift down to the carpet for a moment. Then he’s nodding. “Okay.”

Smiling, Travis reaches out and squeezes Wes’ arm. “Good job.” Then he hurries out of the bedroom so he can go downstairs and lock the poor barely-worn-and-perfectly-good clothes into the washing machine. He almost feels bad for the clothes, like he’s punishing them and he takes the time to whisper an apology. Then he’s racing back up the stairs.

Wes is standing exactly where he’s left him but he’s wrapped his arms around himself. He has an anxious look on his face and Travis sighs softly. “If you really won’t be able to sleep, we can wash them.”

Wes shakes his head. “It’s not that. I’m worried I won’t be able to stop myself from getting out of bed and going back to finish the bathroom.”

Since they’re both exhausted and Travis has had enough of today, he makes the first suggestion that pops into his head. “We can share the bed and I’ll keep you distracted. Plus, I’ll know if you get up and I can help.”

To his surprise, Wes doesn’t look shocked by the suggestion. Instead, he looks relieved. “Okay.”

But when they’re standing next to Wes’ bed, Wes is frowning again. “Travis, we need to have six feet between us.”

Jesus Christ. It’s on the tip of Travis’ tongue to point out that he and Wes have broken the physical distancing rules already and if something was going to happen, it would have happened already. But Wes is exhausted, he’s not thinking clearly and if Travis turns this into a fight, it won’t end well. So he does what he did with the clothes issue and comes up with a compromise. “We’re both six foot something, right?”

“What?”

“Pay attention. I’m 6’2, right?”

Wes frowns behind his mask, staring at Travis like he’s crazy. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“It means if we’re lying head to toe on the bed, we’ll literally have six feet of space between our faces. So we won’t be breaking the physical distancing rules.”

For a moment, Wes keeps frowning and Travis watches as the information slowly makes its way into his tired head. Then Wes’ eyes shift around as he examines this new plan from different angles, trying to find the flaw in it. Finally, Wes nods. “That makes sense.”

If this were a normal situation, Travis would be laughing his ass off at his idea. It’s hilarious and it’s the kind of thing Wes should find funny too. But there’s no room left for humor right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week.

Wes shuffles closer to his bed and tosses one of his pillows down to the foot of the bed. “Do you want the head or the foot?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Wes picks the head of the bed and they climb into bed together after throwing their phones on the bedside table and pulling off their masks. It feels really weird to be getting into the same bed as somebody else while feeling the covers being pulled from the opposite end. It takes a bit of shifting around to get comfortable but they finally get settled.

That’s when Travis realizes the brilliance of this plan. At first, he’d just been focused on finding a happy compromise that will finally let Wes calm down and get some sleep. But as he’s lying on his back, he’s watching Wes’ feet moving around underneath the covers next to him and it makes him smile. Despite how difficult tonight has been and how worried Travis is about Wes, he feels so much better than he did the night before when he was falling asleep in his apartment by himself. For hours now, he’s been around Wes and talking to him and listening to him and now, he has a warm, breathing person sharing a bed with him and Wes’ feet are moving around and the bed is shifting and Travis is soaking it up like a sponge.

Deciding to push things just a little, he deliberately shifts a bit closer to Wes’ legs until his feet bump into Travis’ side. Wes stiffens instantly and his feet freeze before he moves them away. “Sorry.”

Travis chuckles. “It’s been six months since I’ve shared a bed with somebody else so trust me, it’s fine.”

Wes doesn’t respond but a moment later, one of his feet presses against Travis’ side. A beat later, Wes moves his toes a bit, rubbing against his shirt and tugging on it.

It makes Travis grin and he reaches under the covers and pulls Wes’ feet onto his chest before pulling his hands back out and hugging Wes’ feet to his chest. It should feel weird and stupid, but it doesn’t.

There’s a soft, happy chuckle from Wes’ end of the bed and his feet get more energetic, rubbing his heels on Travis’ chest through his shirt. It’s amazing because it’s not something Travis is doing to himself. It’s something another person is doing and it’s making that darkness in his soul fade even more than their earlier hugs had.

But eventually, Wes’ feet slow. He keeps them on Travis’ chest, but his breathing is picking up speed a bit.

Travis grabs Wes’ feet from above the covers and jostles them. “What?”

“Nothing.”

So Travis reaches under the covers and pinches Wes’ big toe hard.

“Ow! Damn it!” In retaliation, Wes kicks him in the chest with his heel.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna start tickling your feet,” Travis threatens.

Wes sighs, but it’s an unhappy sigh. Not his ‘annoyed-with-Travis’ sigh, but a ‘I-hate-my-life- sigh. Travis hates that sigh.

“I keep thinking about the bathroom. I wanna finish the wall.”

Travis reaches under the covers and gently rubs Wes’ feet. “The bathroom’s not dirty or infected. It doesn’t need cleaning.”

“I know. But in my head, I’m convinced it’s dirtier than the other two just because I didn’t finish it. I wanna make them even.” But his voice sounds miserable as he says it. It’s clear that Wes doesn’t actually want to finish cleaning the bathroom but his OCD is fighting hard to convince him that he should.

Travis is about to remind Wes why he doesn’t have to clean the bathroom, but he realizes that might not help. Wes knows he doesn’t have to clean the bathroom, but he just has the urge to do it. Like a junkie who’s desperate for a hit. The junkie knows the drugs are bad for him and he’d stop if he could, but that urge is driving him forward.

Wes doesn’t need logic. He doesn’t need Travis to explain why cleaning the bathroom is pointless and stupid. He just needs Travis to distract him until that gut-clenching, heart pounding urge has passed. And distracting Wes is something Travis is very good at. “So my mom Margie got a new puppy. Cute little thing. I forget the breed but it’s some fluffy, white thing.”

Wes’ breathing is still too fast and his feet are tense; his toes curled up. “Travis, I don’t care about Margie’s new dog!”

Travis keeps rubbing his feet, trying to pull the tension and anxiety out of them with his hands. “I know you don’t. But you’re gonna listen to me talk about her new dog cause that’s gonna keep you distracted so you don’t get up and keep cleaning the bathroom. Cause we both know you don’t wanna clean the bathroom and we just have to wait for that urge to pass.”

Wes greets this with silence and his feet stay stiff. Eventually, he sighs. “What’s the stupid dog’s name?”

“What do you think an old lady names a fluffy, white dog?”

“Snowball?”

“Obviously.”

Wes snorts, the sound harsh and tight. “Tell me more about Snowball.”

“Snowball loves Margie’s shoes. She found that out the hard way when she came home and Snowball chewed up three pairs of her shoes.”

Despite how tired Travis is, he talks. And talks and talks. At some point, his eyes drift closed and he’s mumbling but he keeps talking. The tension in Wes’ feet slowly drains and his breathing calms. Travis keeps talking, moving from one random topic to another, just rambling so Wes can keep clinging to his words and force his brain to focus on those instead of giving in to his urge to go back to the bathroom and The List.

Eventually, Wes’ breathing deepens and his feet are limp on Travis’ chest. Travis stops mumbling as he listens intently to see if he’d misjudged things.

But no. Wes is finally sleeping. Not only that, but he hadn’t gone back to finish the bathroom. That means Wes is feeling good and Travis is definitely feeling good and that means it’s finally time to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank God that the next day is Saturday because it means their alarms don’t wake them up. Travis wakes up and he immediately decides he’s a happy man. He can feel Wes’ warm, sleeping body pressed up against one of his legs and one of Wes’ feet is still on his chest. Wes is snoring softly, still fast asleep.

Travis lies there for a while, smiling at how good he feels. It’s been so long since he’s woken up next to somebody else, since he’s spent the night touching somebody else and being touched. Sure, last night wasn’t a normal situation, but Travis still loved it. He’s also hoping last night had been a turning point for Wes. There’s no doubt that there’s more work to do, but Wes didn’t finish the last three pages of The List and he’s sleeping soundly so that’s good progress.

But after lazing around for a while longer, Travis decides he really should get up and see if Kendall has dug up any info on the unlisted number he and Wes had been discussing for their case last night.

So he carefully moves Wes’ foot off his chest and slides out of bed, tip-toeing to the closet to pull out some clothes before sneaking out of the room to get changed in his own bedroom and find a new mask to wear. It’s pointless to wear the mask while he’s walking around the house by himself, but he doesn’t know when Wes will wake up and seeing Travis walking around his house without a mask on will probably make him freak out and that would be a horrible way to start the day. So he puts on a mask.

* * *

Wes is still sleeping when Travis peeks back into the bedroom, so he quietly shuts the door and goes downstairs. It’s obvious that Wes badly needs the sleep so Travis stays as quiet as he can as he moves around the house.

He makes himself breakfast and cleans up the kitchen afterwards. Not to The List standards, but normal standards. Then he goes out to the garage and brings his stuff in from Wes’ car. He brings everything through the front door and dutifully does the stupid cleaning ritual on himself and all his stuff once everything is stacked in the front hall. Once that’s done and he’s brought everything into the house, he throws his first batch of perfectly-clean-and-not-infected-clothes into the wash, puts together the second chair in Wes’ office and reorganizes things to make room on one of the desks for his own computer and files. He also arranges his desk so he’ll be able to talk to Wes easily but there will be six feet of distance between their chairs.

By the time his second load of clothes are in the wash and Travis is scrolling through his work emails, he hears Wes from the top of the stairs.

“Travis! Why did you let me sleep so long?! It’s 2:30!”

Travis doesn’t take his eyes off his emails. “I’m gonna charge you money if you ask stupid questions.”

There’s stomping on the stairs and Wes appears in the office doorway. He’s frowning and he’s pulled on a mask but he’s still wearing his pajamas and his hair is a mess. He looks so adorable that Travis wants to pull him onto his lap.

But whatever Wes was going to say about Travis letting him sleep so long vanishes the second he sees Travis’ stuff on the desk and his eyes widen with panic. “You—that—did you bring your stuff from outside?”

Travis spins around in his chair and holds up soothing hands. “Yeah, but I followed the rules.”

Wes blinks, shaking a bit and he’s gone pale. “You—you came through the front? Not the garage?”

“Yeah. And I cleaned myself and everything I brought inside. I triple bagged the clothes and they’re going through the wash now. My bag’s getting washed too. And the bags with all the wipes and my old mask are in the garage. You can check.”

Wes is frowning, looking torn between continue to panic or accepting Travis’ calm explanation that he’d followed the rules. Then his eyes widen. “Our clothes from yesterday were in the wash. You’d put them in there last night, right? Did you—did you take them out when your clothes were in the room already?”

Travis rolls his eyes. “You think I met you yesterday? Those clothes were part of the first load. They didn’t need to get washed, but they got washed.”

For a moment, Wes keeps staring around, still frowning. Like he’s having an internal debate with himself. Travis is sure Wes doesn’t think he’s lying but he’s trying to convince himself that Travis did an adequate job and there’s no need to redo the work he’d done.

Travis decides to help him. “Sit down and read your emails. Kendall got back to us about that unlisted number. Good news; the dude was arrested two nights ago and he’s still sitting in lockup. Looks like he’s not bailing out so we have plenty of time to go pay him a visit. And Jonelle finished running a tox screen on Adrian Warner. She had some weird meds in her system. I’m not gonna try repeating the names but you can read all about it in Jonelle’s report.”

Blinking at Travis, Wes fidgets with his hands. Then he’s crossing his arms across his chest. He’s staring at Travis’ laptop like he wants to grab it and either clean it or throw it outside. But after another moment, he stiffly walks to his desk and sits down, reaching over to turn on his computer.

Travis grins but doesn’t say anything. Once Wes computer is on and he’s reading through his emails, Travis decides to push things a bit more and also get some food into Wes. “I’m gonna go make you breakfast. You figure out how to translate the stuff in Jonelle’s report into normal English and decide when we’re gonna go pay the dude in lockup a visit.”

When Travis leaves to go to the kitchen, Wes is sitting stiffly in his chair and the hand not on his mouse is clutching his armrest hard.

But when Travis comes back to the office to tell Wes that his breakfast is waiting in the dining room for him, none of Travis’ things have been touched and Wes is leaning towards his computer, scrolling through some medical websites.

It’s great progress.

After Wes finishes breakfast, he comes back into the office and stands six feet away from Travis’ chair. “Travis?”

Travis doesn’t take his eyes off his computer. “Hmm?”

“Stand up.”

“Why?”

Wes rolls his eyes. “I thought you decided we weren’t allowed to ask stupid questions around here.”

Travis is about to retort that it wasn’t a stupid question, but he’s curious about what Wes wants and bickering won’t get him any closer to figuring it out. He stands up and turns to face Wes, wary about what’s about to happen.

Wes is standing there, stiff and nervous looking. Then he takes a deep breath; his mask shifting around his face. “Hold your breath on the count of three, okay?”

Immediately, Travis breaks out in a grin and nods. They’re not standing outside, which violates the parameters Wes set for their hugging yesterday and that’s yet another big positive step forward. Once Wes has counted down, Travis sucks in a big breath and slides into Wes’ open arms, pressing his face against Wes’ shoulder and relishing how warm and solid he feels in his arms.

Unlike yesterday, Wes’ arms tighten a lot faster around his back and there’s less tension in his body. To Travis’ surprise, he’s the one who has to pull back first when he runs out of air and it takes a second for Wes’ arms to loosen and slide off his body.

And just like yesterday, Wes waits until they’ve got their breaths—standing six feet apart—before asking Travis the question he’s come to love: “Again?”

Like yesterday, Travis doesn’t take advantage of it too much, but Wes is a lot more relaxed and happier during the hugging so Travis doesn’t feel guilty when he asks for three more hugs before he’s had enough.

* * *

“Don’t be stupid, Travis! I have to clean the dining room!”

Travis meets Wes’ glare with an impassive look as they stand, squaring off in the living room. Their work day had been full of success, they’d come back home and Travis helped Wes clean his car before they’d come inside and done their cleaning ritual in the front hall. That was followed by Wes making dinner and them sitting on opposite ends of the ridiculous dining room table to eat.

Then Wes had gotten started with The List. Travis had stayed quiet while Wes cleaned the kitchen and the office. But when it was time to move on to other parts of the house, Travis put his foot down. “Why do you have to clean the dining room?”

“Because it’s dirty!” Wes snaps, his eyes blazing. Travis is glad that Wes has a lot more energy than he did last night but Travis isn’t about to undo all the good progress of the day by letting Wes’ OCD ruin what’s left of it.

“When the hell did it get dirty? _How_ the hell did it get dirty? We used those fancy mat things under our plates, we swept up all the crumbs and we shook the mat things out in the kitchen sink. There’s nothing on the table, the chairs or the floor.”

Wes’ breathing has picked up speed; his mask shifting back and forth around his nose with the force of his breathing and his hands are clenched into fists. “I have to clean it because I know I haven’t cleaned it!”

“That’s one of the dumbest things you’ve ever said and you know it!” Travis takes a step closer, but maintains the necessary six feet between them. “Wes, you gotta separate what needs to be cleaned for you to stay safe and what your OCD is telling you to clean just to drive you crazy. You know you don’t have to clean the dining room.”

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t wanna clean it! If I don’t, it’s gonna bother me all night and I can’t just leave it!”

“It’s not gonna bother you if we go sit on the couch and I kick your ass playing Jeopardy.”

That makes Wes pause and his eyes are darting around. But then he makes a face. “I don’t have time to watch Jeopardy if I’m gonna do the living room, bedrooms and bathrooms. And I haven’t washed our clothes yet.”

“Go put the clothes in the wash and you can wipe down the couch, coffee table and remote, but that’s it. You don’t have to do the bedrooms or the bathrooms.”

Wes’ eyes flare with a hint of panic and Travis thinks he might have pushed too far. “Travis, I...I have to do our bathrooms. Not—okay, not the third one upstairs. But I have to do the two bathrooms upstairs and the one down here. We’ve been using them all day.”

Travis wants to point out that he and Wes are both as sanitized as two human beings can be, but Wes looks incredibly stressed and upset so it’s time to compromise. “How about you only wipe down the parts of the bathrooms that we both touched? Toilet handle, sink taps, our toothbrushes, razors. Stuff like that.”

Again, that makes Wes stop and think. Finally, he crosses his arms across his chest, but he’s not getting angry. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah. And you don’t have to do the wiping three times. Once is enough.”

“If I use a new wipe on each surface, then yeah. I guess so.”

Considering where they were last night, that’s a huge step for Wes so Travis stops pushing. “I agree.” Then he points at one of the wipe containers attached to Wes’ tool belt. “Gimme one of those and I’ll do the couch, coffee table and remote and put our clothes in the wash. You go and do the bathrooms—only the parts we talked about—and we’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes and watch Jeopardy.”

Wes blinks and it’s clear that he thinks things are moving a bit fast. But moving fast is the only way to stay ahead of Wes’ OCD and Travis holds his breath.

Finally, Wes pulls one of the containers out of its holder and hands it to Travis.

Taking it, Travis turns to the couch. “Okay, get going. In fifteen minutes, I’m starting Jeopardy and if you’re not here, you’ll never know if I’m cheating or not.”

That makes Wes narrow his eyes at him. “I’ll know if you cheated based on the categories.”

“Ha. Ha.” Travis throws a mock-glare his way and tosses the container of wipes on the plastic covered couch as he heads off to the laundry.

He knows without turning around that Wes is smirking at his back.

While he’s doing the laundry and wiping down the parts of the living room he’d promised to do, Travis is worried what will happen if things don’t go well. What if fifteen minutes go by and Wes is still upstairs, obsessively scrubbing every tile on the shower wall? What if they’ll have to go through the same heartbreaking battle they had last night? Travis will fight just as hard as he did last night to help Wes, but he hates the thought of ending the day on a bad note.

But to his surprise, Wes is back downstairs exactly fifteen minutes later, looking flushed—so he probably cheated and did more than one pass with the wipes—but he hasn’t touched the dining room or pantry and Travis knows he couldn’t have done all the items on The List in all the rooms upstairs, so he counts it as a win.

They sprawl out on the couch with Travis sitting on a towel because he still can’t stand sitting on the thick plastic and Wes gets them beers and a notepad to keep track of their scores before he settles down on the other end of the couch.

Travis can tell Wes isn’t fully concentrating because he ends up missing the time limit on a bunch of questions that he should know the answer to and his eyes keep drifting away to stare through the living room door at the other rooms that he hasn’t cleaned. But Wes stays on the couch until Jeopardy’s done.

To make Wes feel better, Travis deliberately gets a few questions wrong that he knows the answers to so Wes ends up winning. That puts a smug smile on Wes’ face that Travis can recognize despite his mask.

After going upstairs and into their separate bathrooms, Travis goes into Wes’ bedroom to get new pajamas to wear. He can’t help but stare longingly at Wes’ bed while he’s getting changed because today’s been great for both of them but sharing the bed with Wes again would make things even better.

That’s when he notices something’s changed in the room. Wes has brought one of the bedside tables over from the other bedroom and it’s sitting by the foot of the bed; an exact mirror image of the other end. The sight of it makes something warm spread through Travis’ chest and that warmth burns brighter as Wes casually pads over to the bed and throws a pillow down to the foot of the bed before glancing over at Travis as he’s pulling off his mask and tossing his phone on the bedside table. “Can you get the light on your way over?”

Struggling to contain his grin, Travis eagerly hurries to the bed, putting his own phone and mask on his very own bedside table before climbing into bed.

And within seconds of lying down, Wes’ feet are sliding up against him and all it takes is a brush of Travis’ hand against them before they’re shifting onto his chest and Wes lets out a soft sigh, sounding relaxed and comfortable.

“Good night, Travis.”

Travis grins up at the ceiling, rubbing Wes’ warm, relaxed feet. “Night, baby.”


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next week, Travis doesn’t push Wes too much. Wes is clearly loving getting more sleep and not having to spend so much time on cleaning so he settles into their new routine really well. It’s a huge deal when Wes triumphantly throws the binder containing The List into the dumpster.

But there are some bad days.

Their worst day is when one of their cases falls apart after they’d spent over a year working on it. The forced shut down of the courts in the early months of the pandemic have forced prosecutors to prioritize which cases they would take on and this particular case ends up being on the chopping block because the DA doesn’t think it’s as solid as some other cases.

It pisses both Travis and Wes off and they deal with it in different ways.

Predictably, Wes prints out a new copy of The List and gets to work, glaring at Travis and basically daring him to say anything.

Travis doesn’t say anything because he’s too annoyed to stick to Dr. Ryan’s rules and that would lead to things getting even worse. Instead, he goes out for a long drive on his bike. He stops to buy a pizza and sits on the side of the road to eat it because Wes had threatened to not allow Travis back into the house if he ever brought back a take-out box that couldn’t be properly disinfected.

When he gets back home shortly after midnight, Wes is busy disinfecting everything in the pantry, moving from one item to the next, his motions methodical but full of anger.

Ignoring him, Travis goes upstairs and goes to bed. Wes comes in about an hour later, turning on the light and snapping at him that he needs to clean the room so Travis needs to get out. Travis gets very close telling Wes to fuck off but that would lead to a full-out fight and Wes would probably throw Travis out of house, not just the bedroom. So he grabs his mask and phone from the bedside table and stomps off to one of the other bedrooms that Wes had already cleaned.

At 3:30 in the morning, something shifts on the bed, waking Travis. He blinks sleepily through the darkness, barely making out the outline of Wes taking one of the pillows and putting it down at the foot of the bed before sliding under the covers.

Travis lies there, staring up at the dark ceiling with Wes a tense log next to him and a foot of space between them. Then slowly, ever so slowly, one of the lumps under the blanket that’s Wes’ feet slides closer to him until his foot is brushing Travis’ side, rubbing gently. An apology. A desire for comfort. A desire to comfort Travis. Maybe all of the above.

Slipping his hands underneath the covers, Travis finds both of Wes’ feet and pulls them onto his chest, rubbing gently. Slowly, the tension drains from both of them and Wes sighs softly into the dark.

“This sucks,” Wes mumbles.

It’s not clear what he’s specifically talking about, but it doesn’t matter. A lot of things suck right now.

“I know,” Travis says.

* * *

“What do you mean ‘re-use them’?!” Wes is staring at Travis with huge, panicked eyes.

Travis holds up soothing hands, staying calm as they stand in their underwear in the ‘cleaning room’ in the front hall. “Just listen. The only reason we have to wash our outside clothes when we come home is cause we bring them into the house, right?”

Wes crosses his arms across his chest, his jaw clenched behind his mask. “Right...”

“But what if we don’t bring them in? What if we keep them in here? We can fold them up and shut the door, then we close the plexiglass door too. When we go out tomorrow, we put those clothes on again and wear them again.”

“But we have to wash the clothes.”

“Why?”

Wes’ eye twitches and his breathing is picking up speed; his mask shifting. “Because we wore them outside! We can’t have dirty things in the house, you know that!”

“I’m not telling you to bring them upstairs and sleep on them! We keep them down here, locked up and it’ll be fine.”

“But it doesn’t take a lot of time to wash them.”

Travis gives him a look. “It’s not about that and you know it.” He sighs softly. “We gotta keep pushing if we’re gonna get you back to normal. Or as normal as things can get during a pandemic. Nobody’s washing their outside clothes every single time they come home. Nobody. It’s not necessary.”

Wes is blinking rapidly and he looks panicked as he stares at the bundle of clothes in his arms that he’d been about to triple bag. He’s quiet for a while and he’s still breathing too fast, then he looks up at Travis. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“That’s what you said about The List and you haven’t done the whole list in over a week.”

There’s silence while Wes lets his thoughts run around in his head. Finally, he nods, looking pale and anxious but determined. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

So they carefully fold up their clothes and leave them on one of the shelves. Wes’ hands are shaking when he steps back but he curls his hands into fists and doesn’t grab the clothes. Then he glances at Travis. “Hurry up so we can get out of here.”

Travis nods, grabbing a container of wipes and hurrying through the rest of their cleaning routine.

Wes is standing there, fidgeting with his hands and staring at their clothes on the shelf. He almost looks like he’s in physical pain. “Travis...”

Pulling out a handful of wipes, Travis grabs one of Wes’ hands and stuffs them into his hands. “Did I tell you one of my niece’s is gonna have a virtual birthday party on Tuesday? We’re both invited and I’m gonna hook up your TV so we can see everybody’s screens properly. My sister’s gonna make this crazy cake that looks like a box of crayons. The whole damn thing’s gonna be edible apparently. She found the idea online and she sent me a picture, I’ll show you.”

It’s clear that Wes is only half listening, but he’s methodically wiping himself down and they get through it.

Wes does throw one last look over his shoulder at the clothes, but he leaves the room and makes his way to the plexiglass door after Travis shuts the door.

Once they’ve wiped their feet and stepped into the house, Travis steers Wes upstairs to get changed while he keeps talking and Wes stays quiet and pale. Then they go back down and before getting started on cooking dinner, Travis pours Wes a glass of wine and pushes him onto a bar stool by the counter. And through it all, Travis keeps talking, stretching out the story and adding in as many tangents as he can think of.

Travis is almost done cooking by the time Wes interrupts his story. “She should pipe on the writing instead of cutting it out of fondant. She’s already got a few layers of fondant over that part of the cake and it’ll taste disgusting. Nobody’s going to eat that much fondant, especially a five year old kid. If she pipes the writing, it won’t look as realistic but it’ll be more edible.”

Grinning as he strains their pasta, Travis mentally gives himself and Wes high fives. “Don’t tell me, tell Tracy.” Since his hands are full, he shifts his hip towards Wes. “Take my phone out.”

Wes doesn’t even hesitate before he’s rounding the counter and pulling Travis’ phone out of his back pocket. He returns to the counter and punches in Travis’ passcode, keeping the phone on the counter and touching it as little as possible. Before long, he’s put the phone on speaker and Travis listens to it ring as Wes calls Tracy to have an in-depth discussion about the crayon cake.

Meanwhile, their outside clothes are quietly sitting on the shelf in the front hall, patiently waiting until they’ll be re-used tomorrow.

* * *

Today was a good day. Travis had finally convinced Wes that wiping themselves down head to toe every single time they come back home is unnecessary. Their outside clothes protect most of their bodies, so what’s the point of wiping down the parts of them that were clothed? Wes doesn’t like it, but he agrees to only wipe their hands and faces. He also agrees to keep a garbage bag in the cleaning room where they’ll throw their used masks and wipes, but the bag will stay there and continue collecting trash until it’s full.

Wes is pale and stressed when they step through the plexiglass and into the house so when he asks Travis to go wash his hands one more time, please, Travis goes to do it.

Once they’re done washing their hands, Travis goes to the office to check on some work stuff and when he gets back into the kitchen, he’s surprised to find Wes on the phone with the garbage company. He’s asking them to pick up the dumpster because he’s going to replace it with normal garbage cans.

Travis is grinning ear to ear by the time Wes gets off the phone. Wes still looks anxious, but his eyes are bright when he shrugs at Travis. “I’m not creating as much garbage as before. It doesn’t make sense to keep paying for the dumpster.”

Travis is overflowing with pride and he really wants to hug Wes. “I’m gonna count to three and you hold your breath, okay?”

That makes Wes grin and once Travis has done the countdown, he’s grabbing Wes in a tight hug. Wes is hugging him back just as hard.

“You know it’s because of you, right?” Wes asks, his voice tight because he’s holding his breath.

Travis needs air so he steps back but he raises his eyebrows at him as he takes deep breaths. “Nah, it’s all you. I’m just giving you a little push here and there but you’re doing the work.”

Wes’ eyes are shining and Travis wishes Wes weren’t wearing the mask so he could see the soft, shy smile that he always gets when Travis compliments him.

“What do you want me to make for dinner?” Wes asks.

Travis laughs. “You know my answer.”

Wes chuckles fondly as he turns to walk into the kitchen. “Chicken parm it is.”

* * *

They’re relaxing on the couch together, watching a reality TV show that they’ve both gotten invested in, despite Wes hating shows like that.

Wes is sitting on one end of the couch and Travis is lying across the rest of it, his head on a rolled up towel and his feet on Wes’ lap, obediently maintaining six feet of distance between them. He’s not sure when his feet ended up on Wes’ lap, but he’s very comfortable despite the stupid plastic he’s lying on and Wes is rubbing his socked feet, so everything’s awesome.

Travis lazily stares at the screen, watching a group of contestants going over who they’re going to vote out. “She’s gonna screw Dave over during the eviction vote, just watch,” he mumbles.

“That’s what you said last week and she didn’t.”

“Yeah, cause she’s playing the long con. She gained his trust when she voted the way he told her to last week but this week, she’s gonna change her vote to Krissy.”

Wes glances at him, his eyes lighting up. Travis can tell he’s smirking behind his mask. “Wanna make it interesting?”

Travis laughs. “Sure. The usual?”

“Yup.”

To seal the deal, Travis lifts one of his feet and Wes laughs as he grabs Travis’ toes and shakes them, sealing their twenty dollar bet.

Half an hour later, Travis is proven right and both Dave and Wes are annoyed. Wes smacks his feet hard. “Damn it.” He sighs loudly. “I’ll transfer you the money tomorrow.”

Because of course, Wes stopped using cash back in March and he’ll probably never touch cash ever again.

Travis smirks. “That’s what you get for betting against a genius.”

Wes snorts and smacks Travis’ feet again. But he doesn’t push them off his lap and a minute later, he’s back to rubbing his feet.

Grinning behind his mask, Travis reaches for the remote. He brings up the schedule guide and flips through the pages, looking for something that they’ll both enjoy. Wes doesn’t offer any input as he waits; trusting that Travis knows what he’d want to watch. Wes only moves when he leans forward to pick up his wine glass from the coffee table and he holds onto Travis’ feet while he does it so they won’t slide off his lap.

Everything about is is so warm and comfortable and Travis loves it. He finally finds something that looks like it should be interesting and he settles on that.

The show does turn out to be interesting and they watch mostly in silence, with Wes only interjecting a few snarky comments and Travis pausing the show when he has to stand up to get himself a new beer. He also snags Wes’ wine glass so he can refill it while he’s in the kitchen.

When he’s back, he settles back onto the couch and Wes lifts his feet onto his lap before Travis can put them there. As the show continues, Travis notices that Wes is now massaging his shins and knees. He must have slid a little closer to Wes without being aware of it because his knees are now on Wes’ lap and that means they’re only about five feet apart. Maybe even less. He blames the slippery plastic he’s lying on.

It’s all fine though because Wes is watching the show and isn’t freaking out, so Travis stays where he is.

But as the show continues, something changes. Wes’ hands keep shifting further and further up and he’s now rubbing Travis’ thighs.

And while having his feet or the lower parts of his legs rubbed feels nice and comforting...having his thighs being massaged like this feels a lot different. It feels so good, but that’s the problem. It feels a little too good. It’s been so damn long since anybody’s touched him like this that his body lights up.

Arousal simmers through him and as Wes’ hands continue rubbing his thighs, his cock stiffens, despite Travis sternly telling his body to calm the hell down. He’s staring at the TV while his full attention is on Wes’ warm hands rubbing his soft sweatpants against his thighs and heat pulses through him. Jesus. He’s achingly hard in no time and it feels so damn good. He wants to look down so badly and see Wes’ hands touching him, so close, yet so far from where he’s desperate to be touched.

But then he gives himself a mental shake because this is getting out of control. Clearly, Wes didn’t mean to turn him on. It’s not Wes’ fault that Travis’ poor body is sex starved and it’s confusing simple, platonic touching with sexual foreplay.

For a second, Travis contemplates staying where he is and hoping he’ll get used to it and his erection will fade. But Wes’ hands seem to be massaging his thighs harder as time goes by, his finger digging in and his hands sliding further and further up to where Travis is aching to be touched. He’s tensing up, his breathing picking up speed as arousal radiates through him and there’s no way Wes won’t notice soon. Travis has to get up and try to casually make it to the bathroom before Wes notices and things get awkward.

He has to brace himself for a few seconds before he feels like he can try to get up without coming in his pants. Every part of him wants to stay where he is. Not just that, but he wants to shove down his pants and get a hand on his throbbing cock and get himself off right there, half-sprawled over Wes’ lap while Wes keeps touching him.

Those thoughts don’t help at all and he barely catches a moan before it creeps out as he squeezes his eyes shut, having trouble breathing through the stupid mask because he’s almost panting. Then he’s slowly pulling one leg off Wes’ lap. It feels like he’s stuck in quicksand. “I gotta...I gotta go,” he mumbles.

Wes makes a casual sound. “Well, you don’t have to. You can, if you want to. Or you can stay here and I can help take care of…things.”

Travis’ eyes fly open and he gapes down at Wes, who’s staring at him with a look that Travis can’t decipher. But he’s still rubbing Travis’ thighs and he looks calm as he sits there, leaning back against the couch and looking at him.

Travis doesn’t even have to think about and he says the first thing that pops into his head. “Fuck, yeah.”

There’s definitely a smirk on Wes’ face as he lifts one of his hands and grabs the waistband of Travis’ sweatpants. “Lift up.”

Travis can’t believe this is happening. His cock is a hard bulge under his clothes, just inches away from Wes’ wrist. Wes’ eyes are bright and happy and he’s so relaxed, like this is something they do all the time. The whole thing should feel weird, but it doesn’t. Travis is just aching to be touched and have another person getting him off and having that person be Wes fits so well.

Then Wes snaps his waistband, bringing Travis’ attention back to where it should be. “Come on. Lift up so I can get these layers out of the way. And get your mask off your face or you’re gonna suffocate.”

A part of Travis registers how huge this is. The things Wes is willing to do; the risks Wes is willing to take. Realistically, there aren’t any risks but Wes’ world doesn’t always resemble reality.

But his body moves without Travis having to do anything and he’s lifting his hips. Wes gently pulls his sweatpants down to his thighs, just leaving Travis in his briefs. His cock is straining against the fabric, achingly stiff and the scent of sex fills the air as he reaches up to pull his mask off his face.

Then Wes is gently easing the briefs over his cock and Travis moans when his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. He takes a second to glance at Wes, whose eyes have widened with heat as he stares at Travis’ cock.

It should feel weird because this is a boundary they’ve never crossed, but it doesn’t. It just feels right. It’s also hot. It’s really damn hot. And then Wes wraps his hand around Travis’ cock, giving it a gentle squeeze and a burst of intense arousal shoots through Travis so hard that his back arches off the couch as he thrusts into Wes’ grip; the plastic crinkling below him.

It takes a few tries for them to find a rhythm because it’s probably strange for Wes to be doing this from that angle and Travis is shifting around, his entire body lit up. It feels like being sixteen again. Every touch, every sensation; everything feels so intense and it makes him realize how badly he’s missed this. Some people might not enjoy sex. Others might be fine not having sex for long periods of time. But for Travis, sex feeds his soul and fills his heart the same way that hugs and laughter and being around people does.

But eventually they settle into a rhythm with Wes making his hand work in time with Travis’ frantic thrusting, keeping his grip tight enough to create friction but loose enough that Travis can control the pace. Travis has his eyes closed, his head thrown back against the couch and it feels so intense that he’s digging his hands into the thick plastic sheet, holding on for dear life as he races towards his orgasm way sooner than he normally would. There are so many things happening that all combine to make things way more intense than a simple handjob would usually be. Nobody’s touched him like this in months. It’s Wes who’s touching him. Wes is touching him like this during a pandemic.

When he comes, it takes his breath away and his pulse is pounding in his ears as he gasps for breath, shaking like a leaf.

It takes him ages to come down and when he does, he feels something soft wiping his stomach. He looks down to see Wes using a wad of tissues from the box on the coffee table to clean him up.

“Holy shit,” Travis mumbles, his lips numb.

Wes chuckles. “Been a while, huh?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head. Damn, he feels amazing. “Fuck, I feel good.” Then he looks down at Wes. His legs are still on Wes’ lap and he lifts one of his feet to gently tap on Wes’ stomach, rubbing gently. “You want some help?”

Wes’ eyes are shining and he’s smiling behind his mask, but he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

That makes Travis feel a bit weird but Wes must notice the look on his face because he frowns at him. “Don’t overthink it. It’s been a really good day but I’m tired.”

“You wanna go to bed?” Travis asks.

That puts the smile back on Wes’ face and he gently lifts Travis’ legs off his lap before getting up and holding his hands out to help haul Travis off the couch.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're in the mood for smutty goodness because this chapter is pure smut. The boys have a lot of catching up to do!

Nothing else happens that night and to Travis’ relief, nothing weird happens the next day  either . They get work done.  T hey bicker over what to make for lunch and whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher. Wes decreases the number of wipes he uses during his ‘come-inside’ routine from four to three. 

In the afternoon,  Travis drives back to his apartment and brings over his video game console. After it’s  been thoroughly disinfected, he hooks it up and spends a few hours teaching Wes how to play. Of course, Wes starts out scoffing at the game, calling it juvenile and a waste of time, but when he realizes it’s a game that involves shooting guns, he changes his mind and gets determined to kick Travis’ ass .  He doesn’t but they have a lot of fun and Travis hides his smirk behind his mask when Wes carefully puts their controllers next to the TV, unofficially giving them permission to stay.

Things are so normal that Travis almost f orgets about what happened the night before. But after getting into bed, things change.

As usual, Wes’ feet are on Travis’ chest; the weight familiar and comforting. But after they’re done shifting around and getting settled, one of Wes’ feet decides to go for a trip. It slides down his chest, moving very slowly but deliberately  south.

Travis grins, hopeful that things are heading in the direction he thinks they’re heading. But just in case he’s wrong, he stays completely still and waits as Wes’ foot keeps sliding further and further down. Finally, his foot is resting on Travis’ hip, his toes  barely  brushing his soft cock  through his pajama pants .

The promise of what might happen is enough to get Travis going and arousal shivers through him and centers in his cock, which starts stiffening.

Wes’ big toe gently rubs against his cock, making his pajama pants slide against his cock with delicious friction and Travis lets out a soft moan, shifting his hips just a bit to press his cock a little more against the tentative pressure from Wes.

“Yeah?” Wes asks.

“Yeah. God, yeah.”

Unlike last night, Wes is a lot less tentative this time around. He shifts his whole foot against Travis’ cock and rubs, sending a jolt of heat through Travis that makes him fully hard in no time at all. His hands clutch the blanket and he rubs his cock shamelessly against Wes’ foot, setting up an amazing rhythm that’s making him fall apart within seconds.

He loves everything about it, but he does eventually start questioning how this will end. He really doesn’t want to come in his pants because that’ll make a mess. It’ll take ages to clean everything up and Wes might be enthusiastic about things now but if there’s a mess to clean up, he might change his mind about ever doing this again.

But when Travis is about to open his mouth and bring up his concerns, Wes suddenly pulls his foot away.

Losing that warm source of amazing friction doesn’t feel nice at all and Travis lets out a soft whine, his hips thrusting up against nothing.

Wes abruptly sits up and he’s throwing the covers off them. “Shush. I don’t want you coming in your pajamas or making a mess out of the bed.” Then he’s sliding out of bed. “ Also— I wanna see.”

Travis doesn’t get what Wes is doing. All he knows is that he’s achingly hard, he’s lost the warmth of the blanket and Wes is walking away from the bed, which  are all bad.  Travis can’t fix the situation with Wes, but he can help his cock out and he shoves his pajamas down to his knees and wraps a hand around himself.

“Hey!” Wes calls over from wherever he went. A light has turned on, so he must be in the bathroom. “Just wait a second. I’m getting lotion.”

That’s when everything becomes clear and Travis grins as he  takes off his pants and  gives his stiff cock a squeeze but nothing else.

Wes is back a few seconds later, climbing back on the bed and holding a  hand towel and a  bottle of lotion. To Travis’ surprise, Wes kneels next to his hips, which puts him way closer than six feet and neither of them are wearing masks. But Wes is smiling and his eyes are staring at Travis’ cock, looking eager. His lip are parted slightly and when Travis glances at Wes’ waist, he sees a bit of a bulge tenting his pajamas.

Then Wes opens the lotion bottle and coats both his hands before carefully closing the bottle and putting it next to him before glancing at Travis. “Can I…?”

God, yes. Travis’ grin grows even bigger as he  nods and  releases his cock, watch ing Wes eagerly reaching for his cock. He uses both hands, coating his cock in the slippery lotion and moving so carefully and gently, as if he wants to make sure he doesn’t miss any spots. He even rubs lotion over Travis’ balls, cradling and massaging them as he stares at what his hands are doing with wide eyes, dark with heat. The bulge in his pants is even more obvious and Travis doesn’t know what he wants to stare at more—Wes’ hands sliding over his cock and treating it like it’s something precious, or Wes’ face.

Then Wes glances at him and there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Is this okay?”

Travis huffs out a laugh. “ A nything you wanna do to me is okay.”

That makes Wes frown. “That’s a stupid thing to say.”

“No, it’s not. I trust you and as long as you’re touching me, it’s gonna feel good.”

A small, happy smile lights up Wes’ face and he tightens his grip on Travis’ cock. He keeps one hand on his balls, gently massaging and squeezing  as he works his cock with his other hand. As Wes gets comfortable with the rhythm, he speeds up and tightens his grip a bit more and oh, that makes the low, simmering arousal in his gut flare to life again and spread through Travis as he’s scrambling to grab the sheets underneath him.

Wes keeps working him, his hands warm and firm and the lotion keeps things nice and slick. It feels even better than it did yesterday because Travis is lying on the soft bed rather than the uncomfortable plastic sheet on the couch. And best of all, Wes is even closer to him than he was yesterday and his eyes are huge as he strokes Travis’ cock and stares at him, drinking in every detail.

It takes Travis longer than yesterday to get to the edge, but not by much. His poor body is still starved for sex and it’s soaking up every sensation like a sponge, relishing every moment. What makes the experience a thousand times better is whenever Travis looks down, he remembers it’s Wes who’s getting him off. Wes, whose eyes are blown wide with arousal, whose breathing has picked up speed, whose cock is straining at his pajamas, just from getting Travis off.

When Travis comes, Wes gently works him through it. When Travis is done, Wes slowly loosens his grip before releasing him. He wipes his hands on the towel and carefully wipes Travis’ cum off his stomach, frowning with concentration as he does it.

Travis lies there, basking in the afterglow as he gasps for breath, his heart racing and his body shivering. But when he’s calmed down, he notices Wes is climbing off the bed, probably to bring the towel and lotion back to the bathroom. Wes is moving stiffly, shaking a bit and his cock is stretching his pajama pants. 

And the moment Travis thinks about what’s hidden in those pants, his mouth waters and his body lights up again because he wants. Oh, he wants so badly. Plus, it was fine for Wes to politely decline his offer to reciprocate last night, but Wes wasn’t nearly as turned on then as he is right now. If Wes doesn’t want Travis ever reciprocating and if he wants to keep this a ‘Wes-helping-Travis’ thing, that’s fine. It’s not the perfect scenario, but Travis needs what Wes is giving him and if that’s all Wes wants to give, he’ll have to live with it.

But no matter what, Travis can’t do anything until he knows where they stand. So he reaches out and snags the hem of Wes’ shirt as he’s passing by. “Hey.”

“Hmm? You need water?”

Instead of answering the question, Travis shoots Wes a smirk. “You look like you got a situation going on. You want a hand with that?” Then he deliberately drops his gaze to stare at the bulge in Wes’ pants.

There’s a beat of silence  and Travis brings his eyes back up to Wes’ face, worried that maybe he’d misjudged the situation. But Wes’ eyes have gone wide with desire and his lips are parted again as his breathing gets faster.

“You don’t have to,” Wes mumbles, his voice tight.

“I know, but I wanna. I really, really wanna.”

That makes Wes blink and he stares down at Travis. “Really?”

Travis lets out a strained laugh. “Baby, it’s taking all my self-control not to yank you into bed and get my mouth on your cock right this second.”

Unfortunately, Wes’ jaw clenches and he crosses his arms, which is never good. “I guess that makes sense. It’s not like you have other options.”

The second Travis understands why Wes is acting weird, he gets a bad feeling in his gut and he sits up with a jerk. “Listen to me. I love having sex, you know I do. But if you don’t wanna do this, we don’t have to. I’m fine with the hugging and the weird  but awesome  cuddling routine we’ve been doing and all the other ways we touch each other. That’s enough for me.”

Wes is frowning, shifting from one foot to the other. “I like making you feel good.”

“Okay, that’s good.” But it only addresses half of the problem. “The thing is, I wanna make you feel good too. Not just cause you’re the only other warm body around but cause I wanna make _you_ feel good. But I only wanna do that if it’s what you want.”

That makes Wes’ arms tighten around his chest. “I do want it.”

Travis smiles. “Then we’re on the same page.”

Wes looks anxious and like he doesn’t know what to do next, so Travis decides to push things along a bit. Sliding his legs over the edge of the bed, he puts his hands on Wes’ hips and gently tugs him closer, pulling him between Travis’ legs. It brings them even closer than they were before, but Wes comes willingly.

Sliding his hands under the edge of Wes’ shirt, Travis tightens his grip on him and presses his face against Wes’ warm stomach, nuzzling his soft shirt.

Wes sucks in a sharp breath and makes a soft sound before his hands are cradling Travis’ head.

This close to him, Travis can smell Wes’ arousal and even though the bulge has shrunk a bit, his cock is still hard. Kissing Wes’ stomach through his shirt, Travis runs his nose down his shirt and over his waistband before rubbing his face against Wes’ cock through the thin pajama pants. The heat of Wes’ hard cock presses against his cheek and it smells and feels amazing.

Wes gasps and his hands tighten on Travis’ head, pressing him harder against him.

That low pulsing arousal that’s been coiling in his gut for ages now starts spreading. Although Travis won’t get it up again for a while, his body’s loving everything about this and he eagerly parts his lips t o mouth at the stiff length of Wes’ cock through the fabric.

Wes is shaking harder and his cock twitches against Travis’ lips and God, Travis wants to pull Wes’ pants down so badly. He doesn’t know what he’s more excited for—seeing Wes’ hard cock, mouthing at the leaking head or swallowing him down and listening to the sounds Wes will make.

But before any of that can happen, Travis needs a condom. So he presses a hard kiss against Wes’ cock and pulls back. “Where are the condoms at?”

Wes lets out a strangled sound, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes and looking like he’s about to pass out. “In—in the pantry.”

Of course, Wes doesn’t have any condoms near the bedrooms. It’s actually kind of sad but Travis doesn’t want to dwell on sad stuff. Because Wes’ condoms are going to move into the bedroom right now.

Sliding off the bed, he pulls Wes onto the bed at the same time. “Get those pants off and wait. I’ll be right back.”

He sprints out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the pantry. Thank God he’s lived in the house long enough to know Wes’ organization by heart because he knows exactly which shelf the condoms are on. Skidding into the second aisle, he grabs two boxes and runs back upstairs.

Wes is lying on his end of the bed and he’s taken off his pants but he looks nervous. Travis drops the box of condoms on the bedside table and he’s about to crawl onto the bed and kiss that nervous look off Wes’ face—when he realizes that Wes might have crossed all kinds of physical boundaries tonight, but kissing will probably never be on his list of okay-things-to-do  while the pandemic is still going on.

But Wes has been fine with Travis touching him below the chest, so Travis slides onto the bed, pulls Wes’ legs apart and shoves up his shirt before diving down to nuzzle and kiss his warm stomach. It feels so nice to be kissing his way across somebody’s warm skin and to know that it’s Wes makes it a thousand times better. He gets lots in all the sensations; smelling Wes’ skin, licking and kissing it and rubbing his hips and thighs.

The tension in Wes’ body slowly fades and he’s letting out breathy moans and little gasps. When he curls his legs around Travis’ waist, Travis looks up and takes in Wes’ soft smile and the half-drunk look on his face. Excellent. Even without kissing, things are back on track.

Wes has gone a little soft but he’s still semi-hard and all it takes is a squeeze and a few strokes to get him back to the stiff hardness Travis had felt through his pajamas. Then Travis is reaching for the box of condoms and shaking one out. The routine of tearing open the little foil package after all these months makes him smile and shiver with excitement. Knowing he’s going to put the condom on Wes’ cock because he’s about to get Wes off with his mouth makes the whole thing even better. Travis never imagined Wes would be the first person Travis has sex with after his long break, but it actually feels really good. It fits so well into everything else that’s happened.

Wes is watching him, his lips parted as he pants quietly and his knees are bent with his feet planted on the bed. When Travis rolls the condom on his cock, Wes makes a soft, choked sound but that’s nothing compared to the way he cries out when Travis bends down, wraps his lips over his cock and slides down.

Having a hard cock in his mouth again after so long makes Travis moan, his tongue pressing against Wes’ cock as the familiar taste of latex fills his mouth.

Wes gasps out a curse and his hips are moving, doing little, shallow thrusts into Travis’ mouth. When Travis looks up, Wes seems to be on another planet. His eyes are closed and he’s panting loudly, his hands clutching the pillow under his head and his thighs shaking next to Travis as he keeps making these little sounds that are driving Travis crazy. That heat that’s been building spreads through him and his cock twitches, really liking what’s going on.

Once Travis has figured out the rhythm of Wes’ little thrusts—he doubts Wes is even aware that he’s doing it—he slides further down his cock, increasing the suction and timing his slides with Wes’ thrusts. Like they do everything, once they’ve settled on a rhythm that works, they rapidly speed up and stay in perfect sync. Before long, Travis is relaxing his throat and taking Wes deep, timing his breathing right so Wes’ cock is hitting the back of his throat, stretching his lips and his thick length filling his mouth.

Like Travis, Wes doesn’t last very long. There’s no doubt his celibacy streak has been a lot longer than Travis’ and that’s another reason Travis is loving every second of this. He loves being the one who’s making Wes feel good;  being the one who’s making Wes fall apart like this. Plus, they’re living in a pandemic and Wes literally doesn’t let any other human being within six feet of him. And here he is—letting Travis touch him, kiss his stomach and suck his cock.

When Wes gets close, Travis can feel him getting tense and he’s shaking head to toe. But he can also feel that Wes isn’t quite getting there so Travis pulls off and quickly strips off the condom and tightly wraps his hand around Wes’ cock, jerking him in short, hard strokes.

Wes lets out a shout and it doesn’t take more than a few strokes before his body’s tensing and he goes quiet—he doesn’t even sound like he’s breathing—and he’s coming all over Travis’ hand.

Everything about it is amazing. Not only is Travis having sex with another person, but he got the person off, he made the person feel good and best of all—the person is Wes. Wes, who can count his lifetime sexual partners on one hand. Wes, who keeps people at arms length even when there isn’t a pandemic. But there _is_ a pandemic and Wes let Travis get him off. The amount of trust and vulnerability Wes is demonstrating is breath taking and it’s filling Travis with all kinds of different emotions. The whole thing means so much to him. The experience is feeding his soul and filling his heart but it’s more than that. So much more.

Wes is a panting, shaking mess by the time his orgasm is done and he’s lying sprawled out, his eyes closed as hie body trembles and he gasps for breath.

Travis grins and grabs the towel Wes had tossed on the bedside table and cleans him up. Then he goes to throw the towel in their laundry basket and he stops in the bathroom to get himself and Wes water.

By the time he gets back to the bed, Wes is still looks like he’s floating in outer space so Travis helps him sit up and drink water, making sure he’s taking small sips so he doesn’t choke. Then Travis puts the glasses away, pulls on his pajama pants, helps Wes put his pajama pants on—because Wes might be uncomfortable when he wakes up tomorrow and neither of them are wearing pants—turns off the lights and it’s time for sleep.

It’s instinct to get into bed on the same side as Wes after he’s pulled the blankets up, but Travis freezes right when he’s slid under the covers because he remembers their rules. Wes has been relaxing those rules more and more over the past few weeks, especially last night and tonight, but if Wes was just desperate to have sex then he might have bent the rules just to satisfy that urge. There’s no telling how Wes will react if Travis runs with the assumption that the physical distancing rules don’t apply anymore.

But when Travis is shifting to get back out of bed so he can go down to the foot of the bed—no matter how badly he wants to stay where he is—Wes makes a soft, unhappy sound.

“Where are you going?” Wes mumbles, the first coherent words he’s said since Travis came back with the condoms.

Travis points at the foot of the bed. “You want my head down there, right?”

Wes frowns and for a second, Travis can see different emotions flicker over his face. Then Wes shifts his jaw, looking both stubborn and annoyed at the same time. “We haven’t been physical distancing for a few days and everything’s been fine. We don’t have to do that anymore. Unless you want to.”

His heart lights up and Travis grins. “Baby, I want you glued to me for at least a decade.”

Wes smiles and it’s that shy, happy smile. “I want that too.”

So Travis gets back into bed. He’s wondering how far Wes is willing to push things and Wes answers that question by shifting down and putting his head on Travis’ c hest .

Apparently, that’s where Wes has moved their new boundary to and Travis is fine with that. Looking down at Wes’ blond hair, Travis thinks about how nice it is that Wes’ feet have now been replaced by his head. Everything about tonight was full of great progress and things are moving in a really good direction. It’s an unexpected direction, but a good direction.

So Travis puts a hand on Wes’ back and smiles as Wes drapes an arm across Travis’ hips, right above his waistband.

Ever since Wes had shown up at Travis’ apartment to hug him, Travis always felt like each day was better than the last. That darkness that had plagued him for months had faded bit by bit and he always thought things couldn’t get any better but somehow, they always do. And tonight was even more proof of that.


	10. Chapter 10

Adding sex into their relationship surprisingly doesn’t change a lot of other things. They still argue over stupid stuff, like Travis’ messy work desk or Travis’ need to put ketchup on most breakfast food. They work cases, they go grocery shopping, they play video games and watch TV. And on most days, they also have sex. Travis wants to pretend that adding sex into their list of activities doesn’t feel any different than introducing Wes to video games or having Wes teach Travis how to play weird card games that Travis is sure nobody under the age of 80 plays.

But it does feel different. Wes always has this soft, vulnerable look on his face when Travis is kissing his way down his chest and the way Wes says his name when Travis is fucking him—never face to face—always makes Travis’ heart glow. Never mind when Wes sighs softly when he’s about to fall asleep with his head on Travis’ stomach or the way Wes’ hands are always so gentle, so careful when he’s fucking Travis.

There’s one big thing missing from their sex lives, but it’s something Travis doesn’t think will ever change. Wes still gets nervous whenever Travis has his head anywhere above his chest so kissing is still off the table. They’ve never talked about it, but the way Wes flinched away the one time Travis forgot and kissed Wes’ neck was a harsh reminder.

But it’s something Travis is willing to deal with. Once they get vaccinated and this stupid pandemic is over, he’s hoping Wes will be on board to do lots of kissing and they’ll spend the next decade making out to make up for the lost time.

Travis thinks that maybe he could push Wes to get over his fears related to kissing. After all, it doesn’t make any logical sense. They’re in close contact almost twenty-four hours a day and they’ve stopped wearing masks when they’re at home. They’re constantly hugging each other and having sex so if either of them were sick—which they’re not—then they would have already given it to each other.

But Travis would rather push Wes when it comes to other things and let Wes focus his energy on fighting his OCD when it comes to more important things, like their ongoing fight to make their living situation get back to normal. Or at least, normal in pandemic terms.

The progress is slow but they’ve figured out a good pace that seems to be working. Travis will pick specific parts of their routine that should be changed and he’ll calmly suggest making the change and explain why the change is important. Wes will get anxious, he’ll push back but he’ll end up getting annoyed that his reasoning is stupid and Travis’ reasoning makes sense, which is when he’ll try to make the change.

Sometimes Wes can make the change over night; sometimes it takes several days or even weeks. Sometimes they make a change and Wes gets so anxious and upset about it that they go back to doing things the way they did before and try again a few weeks later. Travis is always careful to hide his disappointment when that happens because thinking that he’s let Travis down would upset Wes even more and what’s the point of that?

And Travis is always careful to leave Wes alone when he has bad days. The days when other stressful things have pushed Wes into a bad place and giving in to the OCD urges makes him feel better. Or maybe it doesn’t make him feel better but Wes is just too mentally exhausted to fight back and it’s easier to give in and do the OCD’s bidding.

Either way, it’s not nice to witness so Travis usually goes out for a drive when it happens. He hates seeing Wes rushing around, a new copy of The List stuffed in his tool belt as he obsessively cleans and cleans and cleans. But Wes is usually better by the next day and he’ll be back to doing things the way they’ve been doing them. The last thing Travis wants is for Wes to feel ashamed over these little relapses so he doesn’t mention them and pretends they never happened.

By moving slowly and not making a big deal out of the times when they take a step backwards, things are going really well. Some successes are small and barely make a difference to their overall routines but some successes are huge.

There was the day Wes took the plastic sheet off the couch, which was a small change but made Travis happy.

Then there was the day Wes was finally brave enough to come into the house straight from the garage. He’d been shaking head to toe, breathing hard and he’d been clinging to Travis’ arm so hard that he’d left bruises, but he’d done it. As soon as they were inside, he’d demanded that Travis use up an entire container of wipes cleaning himself head to toe and Wes had done the same. Then he’d shoved Travis up the stairs, telling him to get into the shower and clean himself for at least thirty minutes, his voice shaking and tight.

Despite Wes going into his own bathroom to shower so he wouldn’t see what Travis did or didn’t do, Travis got into the shower and obediently had a thirty minute long shower, scrubbing himself over and over again because he hated the idea of lying to Wes about it. Wes had stayed tense and anxious for the rest of the night and he’d spent ages scrubbing the two bathrooms where they had showered. When going to bed, Wes had stuck to his side of the bed, his back to Travis and breathing way too fast. Travis had stayed awake with him for hours, talking to him about random things and always catching himself before he was about to reach out and touch him.

But the next day, it was Wes who walked towards the garage door that lead into the house once they got home and were done cleaning the car. His steps had been stiff and he’d been pale and shaky, but he’d done it. That day, Travis talked him into just using half a container of wipes on each of them and only having fifteen minute showers. Wes had agreed with a jerky nod and just like that, they were on the road to getting this figured out.

It took about a week until Wes could come into the house from the garage and be satisfied with them just going up to have a shower right away. At this point, Travis is willing to leave that part of their routine where it is. It’s huge progress and it took so much strength and energy to get there that Travis doesn’t mind having a shower as soon as he’s inside. Now that Wes isn’t insisting they use wet wipes on themselves, Travis’ skin is no longer dry and itchy all the time so having a shower as soon as he comes home is a small price to pay for Wes’ peace of mind.

After a few weeks of them coming in through the garage, Wes surprises Travis by going out to the garage and coming back in with some power tools and shoving one at Travis.

“I think we should take down the plexiglass by the front door.”

Travis’ face lights up in a big grin and he puts the drill down so he can yank Wes into a tight hug. “I’m so damn proud of you,” he mumbles, careful not to breathe.

Wes clings to him for a moment before he’s pulling back. He looks anxious but determined. “Come on, let’s do this.”

They don’t just take down the plexiglass by the front door, but they also take down the divider between the driver and passenger seats in the car. There’s no point to have that division between the two of them when they’re together at home all the time anyway.

But they decide to keep the plexiglass that separates the backseats from the ones in the front. They don’t often have to drive other people around but sometimes they have witnesses or a victim’s loved ones who they need to bring to certain places. They’ve come across a few people who refuse to wear masks and Travis is very happy to have that layer of protection between them.

* * *

Then things change a bit. The change mostly has to do with Wes and it takes Travis an embarrassingly long time to figure out what’s going on.

The first time he notices something’s changed is when he’s sitting on the tiled floor of the front hall, disinfecting the groceries he’d brought home.

Wes spent the morning making three dozen muffins for one of Travis’ foster sisters who just had a baby. After the baking was halfway done, Wes had come out of the pantry, holding one of the inventory clipboards and frowning. Understanding the problem right away, Travis had wordlessly grabbed the clipboard and gone to get Wes’ keys. Then he’d driven to the store to get more flour and other baking stuff so they could replenish the pantry and once again have enough food to feed them for the next five years instead of just four and a half.

Now, Travis is dutifully wiping off each bag of flour, sugar and other baking stuff that had been on his shopping list when Wes wanders up and stands there, hovering.

Travis glances up. “You done with the muffins?”

“The last batch is in the oven,” Wes mutters, frowning and looking distracted.

Travis thinks he knows what the problem is. “You don’t have to come when I drive them over. And I promise, I’m gonna hop out of the car, bring them to the front door and leave them on the porch. Alicia says she and the baby will stand in the window and wave. Nobody’s gonna open the door. Everybody’s gonna stay safe.”

But Wes is shaking his head. “No, it’s not that.”

“Okay...then what?”

Wes stares down at him, his gaze very intense and looking like he wants Travis to read his mind. Unfortunately, Travis has no idea what he’s thinking about.

Abruptly, Wes sucks in a sharp breath. “Stand up for a second.”

“I gotta finish the groceries.”

“Finish them in a second. Stand up first.”

‘Finish them in a second’. Wesley Mitchell just told him to push off disinfecting things that came from the outside. Travis gapes up at him, but Wes lets out an annoyed breath. “Come on, I have to get back to the kitchen soon and you really do have to finish doing the groceries or I’ll start getting anxious. But first, stand up for a minute.”

So Travis stands up and stares expectantly at Wes, waiting.

Wes is chewing on his lip and looking anxious. It’s a familiar look but Travis has no idea what he’s anxious about. “What’s wrong? You want me to do the groceries twice? That’s fine but you know our new rules. I’m not using a new wipe on every item.”

“It’s not the groceries.”

“Then what?”

Wes is still staring at him intently. Finally, he blurts out: “When we hug, are you okay if we breathe?”

It’s so unexpected that Travis first thinks he heard wrong and it’s his imagination making Wes say one of the things he’s been desperate to hear. It’s not what he’s been most desperate to hear—that would be Wes asking him if he can kiss Travis—but it’s a close second.

But when Wes raises his eyebrows, nervous and also annoyed, Travis realizes he’s being serious. “I—yeah. Yeah, obviously. I’d love that. Our hugs are always short cause we’re holding our breath. If you’re willing to hug me when we’re breathing, that’s awesome. But I gotta warn you, I’m probably not gonna let go for a while.”

That makes Wes smile, but he still looks nervous. Then he’s spreading his arms. “Let’s try. But I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

His heart pounding with excitement, Travis steps into Wes’ arms and melts against him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. All of that is familiar, along with Wes’ arms tightening around his back. But what’s different is feeling Wes’ chest moving against his own as they breathe quietly. Travis presses the side of his head against Wes’ shoulder, keeping his face turned away as he draws in one breath after another, loving that there’s nothing forcing their hug to be cut short.

Well, almost nothing.

Wes gets more tense as time goes by and Travis can hear him breathing in jerky, short breaths as if a part of Wes wants to hold his breath but another part of him is forcing him to breathe. It gets worse as time goes by so Travis gently releases him and steps back, deliberately putting six feet of space between them as he grins at Wes.

Wes is frowning, looking unhappy but as usual, Travis pretends not to notice. “That was awesome! If you liked it too, we can do that whenever you want.”

First, Wes just blinks rapidly and Travis can tell he’s fighting the urge to say ‘no, thanks’ and go back to the way things were. But then he’s nodding stiffly. “I liked it too. We’ll have to practice.”

“Anytime.”

Then Wes goes back to the kitchen and Travis sits back down to finish disinfecting the groceries.

* * *

Like with everything else, it takes a while for Wes to get used to hugging Travis and breathing normally. At this point, Travis knows for sure Wes isn’t scared of getting Travis sick or Travis getting him sick. It’s more that his OCD is telling him breathing so close to Travis is a Bad Idea and Wes shouldn’t do it and screw whatever logic contradicts it.

But Wes keeps pushing and Travis helps him along and eventually, there’s the night when Wes stays up on the pillows when he wraps his arm around Travis’ chest and they fall asleep with their faces almost touching.

That’s followed by the morning when Travis comes up behind Wes and hugs him while’s he’s brushing his teeth and Travis presses his face against the side of Wes’ head, breathing against him and feeling Wes’ chest rising and falling steadily underneath his arms as he brushes his teeth, like having Travis so close for a long period of time is normal.

* * *

A few days after Wes has gotten used to their new hugging routine, things get weird again. This time, Wes is acting twitchy and nervous while Travis is talking to one of his foster mom’s and her new husband on a video call on the TV. Instead of sitting on the couch to join the conversation like he usually would, Wes is fussing around in the kitchen.

Travis can hear Wes moving things around in the kitchen and the familiar sound of wipes scrubbing surfaces. It’s partially distracting but Travis is enjoying the conversation so he waits until he’s said his gooodbyes and disconnected before he’s wandering into the kitchen to ask Wes what the hell’s bothering him.

“Nothing,” is Wes’ immediate response.

That makes Travis frown and it puts him on alert because it’s been weeks since Wes has hidden anything from him. “Uh uh. We ain’t going back to that. There’s no way. Tell me what’s wrong and then I’ll tell you if it’s nothing or something.”

Wes makes a face, fiddling with the random stirring spoon that’s in his hands for some reason. “It’s stupid.”

“Yeah, probably. But that doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

That makes Wes narrow his eyes at him, which means he loses some of his anxiousness and that’s good.

Deciding to provide some more incentive, Travis slides his arms around Wes and nuzzles his neck. This is something new they’ve added into their routine lately and even though Travis still desperately wishes he could kiss Wes on the lips, he’ll happily live with this new addition. “I know how to make you talk,” Travis mumbles, flicking his tongue against Wes’ warm skin.

It makes Wes shiver because his neck is sensitive and Travis loves that he’s had the chance to discover that.

Wes sucks in a shaky breath, but his hands are clutching Travis’ shirt, which is a good sign that he doesn’t want Travis going anywhere. “I...”

“Hmm?” He keeps nuzzling Wes’ neck but Wes stays quiet. That requires a change in tactics so Travis kisses Wes’ neck some more. “If you don’t tell me, I’m not gonna blow you for three days,” he mumbles against Wes’ skin.

That makes Wes chuckle, but the laugh is strained and his hands are still clinging to Travis. “Like you’d last that long.”

“You know I’m a stubborn bastard when I wanna be.”

Wes sighs softly. “I know.”

Then there’s silence while Wes thinks. Travis waits patiently while he rests his chin on Wes’ shoulder. It’s a good sign that Wes hasn’t stepped back and gotten annoyed at Travis’ insistence that he tell him what’s wrong. If he did any of those things, Travis would respect his desire to keep whatever’s bothering him to himself. Well, for now. But everything about the way Wes is acting is letting him know that Wes really does want to tell him, he just has to gather enough courage.

So Travis goes back to nuzzling Wes’ neck, holding him tight. He’s careful to keep his touching chaste so they don’t get distracted, but he’s letting Wes know with every touch and every breath that he’s right here and he’s not leaving.

Unfortunately, Wes gets more tense and starts shaking as the minutes tick by. He clings to Travis harder and things seem to be getting worse rather than better.

Finally, Wes draws in a shaky breath. “I really wanna kiss you,” he chokes out in a whisper.

Travis freezes. Again, he thinks it’s his imagination putting words into Wes’ mouth. “What?”

Wes lets out an annoyed breath of air. He’s a tense rod in Travis’ arms. “I really wanna kiss you.”

His heart lights up and Travis grins. He almost pulls back to crush his lips against Wes’, but then he remembers that this isn’t a normal situation and there’s a reason Wes is anxious about it. So he rubs his nose against Wes’ neck. “I’m not gonna say no to that.”

There’s a strangled laugh from Wes. “I know. But I don’t know if I can do it.”

Travis pulls back and puts his hands on Wes’ face. “You know I’m not sick and you know you’re not sick.”

Wes’ face is drenched in misery. “I know that. But...”

“And even if we were sick, we would have already given it to each other. Kissing isn’t gonna make a difference.”

“I know.” Wes draws in a shaky breath and briefly closes his eyes, his jaw clenched. When he opens his eyes, he stares at Travis, looking sad but also annoyed. “I know we wouldn’t be taking bigger risks by kissing. But there’s that voice in my head, telling me that it’s a bigger risk.”

“But it’s not.”

“I _know!_ But I can’t get that voice to shut up. It’s like the stove!”

Travis frowns. “What?”

Wes waves a hand behind him where the stove is. “When I was little, I was always scared to touch the stove.”

“Okay...why? You burned yourself?”

“No. That’s the problem. I just knew that the stove gets hot when it’s turned on and I’d always be terrified of burning myself. Even if I knew the stove hasn’t been turned on for hours, even if I saw my mom touching it, it didn’t matter. I’d still have this stupid fear yelling in my head, telling me not to touch the stove because it might burn me. It doesn’t matter if I put a damn thermometer on the stove and saw with my own eyes that the temperature’s fine. It doesn’t matter how many times I’d tell myself that the stove wasn’t a danger. That stupid voice would still be yelling and making me too scared to touch it.”

Travis gets it. Wes knows his fears aren’t rational but they’re so overwhelming that it’s hard for him to ignore them. But Wes is missing the most important part of the stove story. “But you’re fine touching the stove now. You clean it all the time, even if you cooked on it a few hours ago.”

Wes sighs and he doesn’t look any less miserable. “I got over that stupid fear, but it took a long time. Alex helped me. But anyway—” Wes waves a dismissive hand. “That’s not the point.”

Travis rubs his hands up and down Wes’ sides. “No, I think that’s the point. Alex helped you, just like I helped you stop doing the whole list and change other parts of your cleaning routine. It took time and lots of hard work, but you got over those fears and the urges. You can do the same thing with kissing. But only if you wanna put in the work. We don’t have to.”

Wes stares at him, his eyes sad. “I do wanna put in the work. But kissing is really personal and I don’t think I’ll react well and I don’t wanna hurt your feelings.”

Travis doesn’t see how Wes wanting to kiss him would ever hurt him, so he smiles reassuringly. “Not gonna happen.”

Searching his face for a long moment, Wes finally sighs softly. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Wes is quiet for a moment, thinking. He’s still tense and doesn’t look excited about any of this. It’s understandable but Travis is sure that things will change as soon as Wes realizes how awesome kissing will be. Finally, Wes nods stiffly. “Okay, let’s try.”

His heart leaping from excitement, Travis puts his hand on Wes’ chin. He waits a moment to see if Wes will change his mind and pull away, but it looks like Wes has planted his feet and he’s staring at Travis like he’s facing an execution squad. It’s doesn’t match Travis’ fantasies, but he’s hoping Wes will come around soon.

Leaning forward, Travis brushes a soft kiss over Wes’ lips. Wes doesn’t respond, his lips pressed together in a tight, unhappy frown. So Travis kisses him a few more times, gentle, lingering kisses, trying to sooth the raging inferno that must have lit up in Wes’ head.

Wes tolerates the chaste kissing for a while and makes no effort to kiss Travis back. Maybe it hasn’t even occurred to him that kissing usually involves two people. Eventually, Wes makes a frustrated sound and pulls back from Travis just a bit.

“Use your tongue. I wanna get it over with.”

Which is just about the most unromantic thing Travis has ever heard, but he knows how hard this is for Wes so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans in again and gently licks at Wes’ tightly sealed lips, waiting. Wes stays a stiff statue, then his hands come up to Travis’ shirt and after making an unhappy, panicked sound in his throat, Wes’ lips part slightly.

Wes is shaking so hard that even his lips are trembling and Travis starts having second thoughts about this whole thing. Wes clearly doesn’t want Travis’ tongue anywhere near his mouth and it feels wrong to force things. So Travis pulls back. He’s about to explain why he stopped, but Wes is glaring at him.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and do it.”

Travis sighs. “I don’t wanna kiss you if you don’t want me to.”

That makes Wes’ eyes spark with anger. “You said you wanted to kiss me!”

Rolling his eyes, Travis grabs Wes’ hands, that are still tightly holding onto his shirt. “Jesus Christ, of course, I do!”

“Then do it!”

Travis makes a face. How can he explain that he wants to kiss Wes but doing it when Wes doesn’t want him to sours the whole thing?

But when Travis stays quiet, Wes’ anger fades and his eyes get sad. His entire face falls and his grip loosens in Travis’ shirt. Travis can tell Wes is about to pull back and he instantly understands why before Wes even says anything.

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” Wes mumbles, sounding devastated. “It’s fine, I get it. Let’s just stick to what we’ve been doing.”

That’s when Travis realizes he’s being an idiot. He’s been floating along, pretending that kissing Wes will match his fantasies. But why would it? All the other steps they’ve taken with intimacy took work and patience. Hugging, breathing while hugging, sleeping on the same side of the bed, going from simple hand jobs on the couch to having sex. And because of how things are, kissing is the biggest hurdle they’ve ever faced. There’s a respiratory disease sweeping across the entire world and that means kissing is the highest risk sexual activity that people can do together right now.

This is a big deal. This is going to take work and patience. Wes won’t react well at first, it might take ages to get through it and maybe Travis won’t have his fantasies turn into reality for a while. But it’s not just about kissing. Wes has confronted his OCD on so many fronts over the past weeks and this is another battle waiting to be fought. And Travis wants to help him win that battle. If that means he gets to make out with a happy Wes at the end, that’s even better. But that’s not the most important part.

So he puts his hands on Wes’ face and gives him a hard look. “If you don’t wanna work on this, we don’t have to. But I do. And not just cause I wanna make out with you. There’s a lot more at stake here and I get that.”

Wes’ jaw shifts. “This isn’t going to be fun and I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve better than that.”

“And you deserve to enjoy kissing me without a voice in your head annoying you. If you wanna work on this, I’m ready.”

Wes’ eyes search his face for a while. He still looks sad, but there’s a spark of hope in his eyes. Finally, he nods. “Okay. Let’s try again. But use your tongue and push me.”

Again, it’s pretty much the most unromantic lead up to kissing Travis has ever experienced, but this isn’t really about kissing or feeling good. It’s a battle that has to be fought and won. “Just don’t bite my tongue,” he mumbles. Sadly, he’s being serious.

Wes nods. “I won’t.”

“And I’ll push but not too hard. I’m not gonna hold your head so it’s up to you to stop when you want to.”

“Okay.”

So Travis releases Wes’ face but keeps two fingers under his chin, just to hold him steady. He leans in again and presses gentle kisses to the corners of Wes’ lips, which are tightly pressed together again, his entire body shaking. Travis keeps going, pressing soft, lingering kisses against Wes’ lips. Wes’ hands are tight in Travis’ shirt again and Travis wants to step closer to comfort him, but it’s probably taking all of Wes’ courage to not pull away and Travis guesses he might not appreciate having Travis coming any closer than he has to.

He waits to see if Wes will part his lips on his own but when that doesn’t happen, Travis gently licks at them, waiting to see what Wes will do. Wes’ breathing has picked up speed, but it’s that jerky, panicked breathing that Travis hates. Finally, Wes makes a small whimpering sound in his throat and parts his lips, as if it’s taking ever ounce of courage he has.

Travis gently swipes his tongue between Wes’ lips and Wes makes another unhappy sound and his lower jaw is shaking. Not wanting to push Wes too much, Travis doesn’t let his tongue slide too far into Wes’ mouth and he’s about to pull back and say that he thinks that’s enough for the day, when Wes’ tongue briefly touches his.

It’s so quick that Travis thinks he imagined it, but then it happens again. Wes’ panicked breathing gets worse and he’s making unhappy, whimpering sounds but he’s definitely shifting his tongue to briefly touch Travis’ before it darts away again.

After Wes’ tongue bravely darts over to say hello twice more, Travis pulls back just enough to gently suck on Wes’ upper lip and kiss the corner of his lips while Wes stays a frozen, panicked statue. Then Travis rubs his tongue along Wes’ lower lip before slipping inside again, gently running along Wes’ teeth and seeing if Wes’ tongue wants to say hello again. To his surprise, Wes’ tongue does come by one more time and this time, Wes puts more pressure behind it, deliberately rubbing his tongue hard against Travis’. But Wes is making choked sounds while he does it and he lasts for only a few seconds before he’s pulling away, stumbling back from Travis and turning to face the fridge, pressing his forehead against it, shaking and making horrible, distressed sounds.

Travis is left blinking at the sudden change, then he stares at Wes pressing himself against the fridge, shaking like a leaf and whimpering. There’s no doubt that the stupid voice is screaming in Wes’ head right now, telling him to scrub his mouth out with bleach and throw Travis out. It’s instinct to reach out and rub Wes’ back.

But Wes tenses even more at the touch, flinching away. “Don’t,” he chokes out. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

This is the most stressed and anxious Travis has ever seen Wes, including that first night when he’d come to live with him and it makes his heart ache. If there was any doubt that this is going to be hard, that’s gone now. But even if Travis can’t comfort Wes physically, he still wants him to know how proud he is of what they’ve done so far.

“You did really well! I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you lasted such a long time. You didn’t bite my tongue or push me away and you even brushed your tongue against mine. That’s huge! You did so good and this was just our first try. You did amazing and I’m proud of you.”

Wes turns around, but his face is pale and tense with anxiety. He doesn’t look happy and his jaw is shifting around. Travis can see his tongue running around his mouth and Wes wraps his arms around himself. “I wanna...Travis...” He makes a face, shaking. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

Wes’ eyes dart around the kitchen and he stares at a bottle of disinfectant on the counter. He’s blinking at it, his eyes huge and Travis quickly reaches over to grab the bottle and shove it under the sink, out of sight.

That makes Wes whimper and squeeze his eyes shut. “I wanna go brush my teeth.”

Travis’ heart aches. Not because Wes didn’t like the kiss because it’s not about that. It’s because Wes is suffering and in pain. “If you do, you’re gonna be in the bathroom for hours and you’re gonna brush until your gums bleed.”

“I know,” Wes whispers, sounding miserable as his jaw and lips keep shifting around, his tongue poking around as if his mouth really is filled with the virus. “I can’t...Travis, I can’t swallow.”

“What?”

Wes stares at him, looking panicked. “I can’t...my throat won’t let me.” A tiny bit of drool glimmers on his lips and Travis realizes Wes’ mouth is filling with saliva but he can’t swallow it because he’s scared that he’s contaminated and swallowing will somehow hurt him.

Travis steps closer to him but doesn’t touch him. “Listen to me. There’s nothing dangerous in your mouth. I’m not sick and you’re not sick.”

Wes makes a face. “I know that. But I can’t...” A small spit bubble bursts on his lips and Wes abruptly turns to the sink and spits out a mouthful of saliva. His hands reach for the taps to turn on the water, but he freezes, his hands shaking. “Travis...help me. Please.”

His heart racing with the need to help Wes, Travis clenches his hands into fists because it’s instinct to pull him into his arms and offer physical comfort, but that will just make things worse. So he does the only thing he can think of. “What should I do?”

Wes is hunched over the sink, shaking and his hands clutching the taps. “If I wash my mouth out, I’ll never stop. I’ll never...it’ll never end. I can’t wash my mouth out.” He spits out another mouthful of saliva. “But I can’t swallow until my mouth is clean.”

Travis suddenly remembers something he’d heard the health minister saying in the early days of the pandemic when people were getting all confused over how they could contract the virus. Rushing to one of the cupboards, he takes out a glass and brings it to the sink.

Reaching past Wes, he covers Wes’ frozen hand on one of the taps and turns on the water, filling the glass. After turning off the water, Travis holds out the glass. “Drink.”

Wes’ eyes flash. “I _can’t!_ I just told you that I can’t! My mouth is contaminated and I can’t—”

“You can’t get sick if you swallow whatever your head’s convinced you is in your mouth. Your stomach acids will kill whatever gets in there. You know that.” He holds out the glass. “Come on. Drink.”

Wes’ eyes are huge and panicked and he looks like he’s about to pass out but he transfers his death grip from one of the taps to Travis’ shirt. But he’s shaking so hard that Travis realizes he couldn’t hold the glass if he wanted to, so Travis gently presses it to Wes’ lips, tilting it just enough so some water sloshes against his tightly sealed lips.

“That’s it. Take a small sip. Just a small sip.”

It takes ages until Wes parts his lips enough to let the water inside. His brain is probably going nuts, adding all sorts of new bullshit into things because Wes is so overwhelmed. But he takes a sip. Then he holds the water in his mouth, staring at Travis with huge eyes.

“Now, swallow. Your stomach is a safe place, let whatever’s in your mouth get into your stomach. Come on, you can do it.”

Still clinging to Travis hard enough that the shirt’s probably going to tear soon, Wes keeps staring at him and Travis stays still, holding the glass as he watches Wes’ throat.

It takes ages but finally, Wes swallows. He squeezes his eyes shut and looks like he’s in physical pain as he whimpers, but he did it.

Travis grins and barely restrains himself from pulling Wes into a tight hug and smothering him in kisses. “You did it! That was awesome! Come on, couple more sips.”

He presses the glass to Wes’ lips again and they go through the whole thing again. This time, Wes swallows a bit faster than before, his eyes still staring at Travis the entire time, as if he’s soaking up Travis’ strength visually and adding it to his own.

Eventually, Wes is sipping and swallowing with barely any hesitation and Travis is overwhelmed with relief. He keeps praising Wes at every step and doesn’t move from where Wes is clinging to his shirt, his other hand still stuck on the sink tap.

Slowly, Wes’ panic fades but with it, his strength fades too. He turns his head away from the glass and loosens his grip in Travis’ shirt. “I’m really tired,” he mumbles.

It’s early afternoon, but that doesn’t matter. Wes has fought a hard battle and it makes sense that he’s exhausted. “Okay. Let’s get you up to bed.”

To Travis’ surprise, Wes transfers his grip to the hem of Travis’ shirt and he leans against Travis as they slowly make their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom.

Wes is pale and so exhausted that his eyes are barely staying open as he slumps onto the bed. He makes no attempt to change into pajamas before he’s crawling under the covers, Travis helping him along the way and only touching him when necessary.

When he’s done pulling up the blankets around him, Wes’ eyes are already closed and Travis is about to quietly leave until Wes makes an unhappy noise and opens his eyes a tiny bit.

“Stay,” he mumbles. “Please.”

“Okay.”

Then Wes frowns, looking worried. “But not...”

Travis smiles softly. “I’ll be at the other end, don’t worry.” He throws his usual pillow down to the foot of the bed and slides under the covers, taking up the position that he’d last slept in weeks ago.

It should feel like a step backwards, but it doesn’t and it’s not. Travis is more sure than ever before that they’ll get through this and their lives will be so much better once they’ve reached the other end of this tunnel.

Then Wes surprises him again when he makes a soft noise and shifts onto his side, hugging the lumps under the blanket that are Travis’ feet and pulling them close. Opening his eyes, he stares down at Travis and smiles softly before his feet are creeping closer and brushing against Travis’ side.

Smiling, Travis reaches under the covers and pulls Wes’ socked feet onto his chest, rubbing them. “Go to sleep. I’ll make dinner when you’re up.”

Travis doesn’t have to point out that he’ll stay right where he is while Wes sleeps, even though Travis isn’t tired and doesn’t even have his phone to entertain him. Wes needs him to be here so this is where Travis will stay.

And Wes’ warm, sleepy smile from the other side of the bed tells Travis that Wes knows it and that’s what’s most important.


	11. Chapter 11

When Wes wakes up, Travis goes downstairs and starts cooking dinner. While he’s chopping vegetables, Wes wanders into the kitchen, comes up behind Travis and wraps his arms tightly around him, nuzzling his neck.

It makes Travis smile and his heart lights up because these are all good signs.

“Guess what?” Wes mumbles, his lips warm against Travis’ neck.

“Hmm?”

“You had your tongue in my mouth and I’m not dead.”

Travis laughs as he chops a carrot. “Shocking, huh?”

Wes chuckles and rubs his hands over Travis’ chest. “The stupid part of my brain thinks it’s shocking, yeah.” Then his arms tighten and he goes tense. “Do I get an award for officially giving you the worst kiss you’ve ever had?”

Travis smiles and reaches behind him with the hand not holding the knife and pats Wes’ ass. “It wasn’t even close. You didn’t bite my tongue, you didn’t drool on me and you didn’t taste like sewage.”

“God,” Wes chuckles. He rubs his nose against Travis’ neck and presses soft, slow kisses against his skin before resting his chin on Travis’ shoulder. “Just so we’re on the same page, I know that wasn’t fun so I completely understand if you want to keep kissing off the table.”

Travis is back to chopping the carrot and he gently knocks his head against Wes’. “It wasn’t fun but if you wanna keep working on it, I’m up for it. And I’m pretty damn confident that it’ll eventually be fun. Lots of fun even.”

Wes doesn’t say anything, but his arms tighten around Travis and his breathing is a bit uneven. Then he reaches for the knife and pulls it out of Travis’ hand, putting it on the cutting board before turning Travis around.

Wes stares at him, his eyes unreadable. Travis’ hands slide around Wes, pulling him close before he’s even aware he’s doing it and Wes shifts closer to him, a soft smile on his face. Then Wes leans over even more and kisses Travis on the lips. It’s nothing more than a quick, casual peck but it means so much more and Travis stares at him.

Then Wes rubs his nose against Travis’ before stepping back and hip-checking him away from the cutting board. “You’re butchering this poor, innocent carrot. Go do the steaks.”

* * *

They finish cooking together and eat dinner. The entire time, Wes is almost constantly staring at Travis with a look that Travis can’t decipher. And once they’re done eating and they’ve loaded the dishwasher, Travis is all set to go to the living room while Wes starts his minimal evening cleaning routine.

But Wes catches the hem of his shirt before he can leave the kitchen. “Is there something you really wanted to watch on TV tonight?”

Travis frowns at the weird question. “Not really.”

Wes smiles and it’s a mischievous little smile that Travis doesn’t often see. “In that case, I was thinking we could go upstairs instead.”

To make his point even more clear, Wes slides his hand under Travis’s shirt, rubbing just above his waistband. Liking where this is going, Travis grins. Wes rarely initiates sex, he’s had a really stressful day and he’s also putting off his cleaning ritual.

But when Travis realizes the extent of what Wes is doing, it makes him a bit apprehensive and his smile fades. “You don’t owe me anything. You know that, right?”

Wes frowns, looking confused. Then he smiles. “I know that. That’s not what this is about. I wanna make you feel good and I wanna do what makes me feel good. I think we deserve it after all the hard work we did today.”

That brings Travis’ smile back and he smacks Wes’ ass. “Get up those stairs.”

Laughing, Wes goes, pulling Travis by the shirt.

When they get upstairs, it’s Wes who pulls his clothes off first before tugging impatiently on Travis’ shirt and pants and Travis happily lets him take over.

Ten minutes later, Travis is naked, sprawled out on the bed and lost in a haze of arousal as he plants his feet on the bed and thrusts back against the two fingers Wes is sliding in and out of him. Wes is kneeling between his legs, his eyes sparkling and a happy smile on his face as he switches up the angle and speed of his fingers, driving Travis insane.

“God, get inside me,” Travis mumbles, panting as his hard cock twitches against his stomach.

Wes laughs and pulls his fingers free before fumbling with the condom. “Well, aren’t you being bossy, huh?”

Travis groans and stares up at the ceiling, waiting impatiently, his body shivering. Finally, he feels Wes’ cock nudging at his slick rim and he twists his hands into the sheets below him as Wes slowly slides into him, filling him up and making Travis’ eyes drop shut because of how good it feels.

Wes has a tight grip on Travis’ thighs and he moans softly. “Fuck, this always feels so good,” Wes mumbles.

Travis grins because Wes rarely swears and hearing him swear during sex is always great. He licks his dry lips, his cock aching as he relishes the feeling of Wes being inside of him and holding his legs. “Feels pretty damn good from this angle too.”

Wes huffs out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I know.” He shifts and spreads his knees, pressing his hips as close to Travis as he can get and pressing Travis’ thighs further apart.

It makes Travis smile because he knows this is the lead up to one of his favorite positions. And sure enough, a warm, familiar weight slowly presses down on him and he opens his eyes.

Wes is frowning in concentration, adjusting his hips, shifting his knees and carefully lowering himself until he’s pressed against Travis and his forearms are braced on either side of Travis’ head. He’s completely surrounded by Wes and his smile brightens because Wes has never fucked him like this before. He usually prefers to stay further down and hold onto Travis’ thighs, which is fine but this is Travis’ favorite position because it means he’s surrounded by Wes on all sides. It’s a position he often uses when fucking Wes and knowing Wes is replicated what he’d learned from Travis to make him feel good is doing funny things to his heart.

Then Wes makes things a thousand times better by rubbing his face over Travis’ chest, kissing and nuzzling his skin. Wes’ weight is pressing against his cock, Wes’ cock is filling him up and Wes is kissing him so gently and with so much affection that it brings a lump to Travis’ throat. He can tell Wes is trying to say something without using any words and Travis thinks he knows what that message might be.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to analyze the situation further because Wes kisses his way up to Travis’ neck and starts fucking him, bracing himself on his forearms and rolling his hips as he gasps against Travis’ skin.

It lights up that fire inside of him again and Travis moans and wraps his arms around Wes’ back, holding him close while Wes’ thrusts slowly speed up. Wes’ body is constantly rubbing against his stiff cock, he’s panting against Travis’ neck and Travis is surrounded by warmth, skin, Wes and a thousand emotions. It feels amazing.

Travis wants it to last forever and he tightens his grip on Wes, wanting to keep him right here, just like this for eternity. Everything feels so right, especially after the tough day Wes had.

When his orgasm comes, it’s not a sudden, explosive thing. Instead, it’s slow and gentle but still takes his breath away by its intensity. Wes lifts his head and watches him as he fucks him through it, panting warmth breath against his face and his eyes wide. He follows Travis over the edge a minute later, groaning and digging his hands into the pillow as he presses his forehead against Travis’ chest.

Wes seems to be too uncoordinated to do much afterwards, which makes Travis smile. He keeps Wes’ heavy weight on top of him for a little while, until Wes softens and slips out of him and the weight starts being uncomfortable. Then he rolls them over and takes care of the condom, cleans himself up and gets them water while Wes lies sprawled out, gasping like he’d run a marathon.

Travis feels so damn good that he really doesn’t care if Wes wants him to sleep on the opposite side of the bed. But to his joy, that’s not even an issue because after he’s finished drinking water, Wes puts his glass down and tugs on Travis’ arm until he lies down and curls up around Wes.

Wes wraps himself around Travis and rubs their noses together, smiling that soft smile that Travis loves. It makes Travis smile too because today ended up being a really great day, despite everything.

Then Wes puts his hand on Travis’ chin and leans over and kisses him right on the lips. He keeps his lips closed but it’s a slow, lingering kiss that leaves Travis surprised but also shocked. When Wes doesn’t stop after one kiss, Travis carefully joins the kiss, making sure to keep his lips together and not pressing too hard.

It’s a much better first kiss than what happened in the kitchen earlier.

Wes grins when he pulls back, his eyes shining, like he knows he surprised Travis and he feels smug about it. “Good night, Travis.” He says it all casual.

Travis laughs because Wes being full of self-confidence is always a good thing and it means they’re going to be okay. But he does need to respond so he reaches down to smack Wes’ ass hidden under the blanket. “You’re getting too smug for your own good.”

Wes chuckles, looking very pleased with himself. “You’re a terrible influence,” he says, tangling their legs together and shifting his head on the pillow as he makes himself comfortable.

Travis can’t stop smiling as he leans over and kisses Wes on the forehead. “Good night, Mr. Self-Confidence.”

That makes Wes laugh again, sounding happy and relaxed and Travis wraps his arm around him and closes his eyes.

* * *

The whole kissing business is just as stressful and difficult as Travis thought it was going to be.

Wes is a fighter and he pushes himself but Travis sometimes has to put the brakes on when things aren’t going well. If they’ve had a stressful day at work, if a case goes sideways or if they watch a news report where they’re told that the number of cases and fatalities are continuing to sky-rocket, they don’t kiss, even if Wes insists they practice. Travis knows it wouldn’t go well so there’s no point in adding more stress to those days. On most of those days, Travis goes for a drive on his bike and Wes cleans and they sleep on opposite sides of the bed without touching.

Sometimes they practice kissing and Wes gets so overwhelmed that he pushes Travis away and can’t tolerate being touched for the rest of the day. Those are also the days Travis keeps a careful eye on Wes and keeps bottles of disinfectant away from him, just in case.

“I’m not gonna drink a bottle of disinfectant, Travis!”

“Probably. You’re _probably_ not gonna down a bottle of poison. But we both know your head sometimes tells you that it’s the right thing to do, so I’m gonna keep the bottles away on those days. Feel free to fight me and yell at me but I’m not gonna take the risk.”

That made Wes glare at him and stomp off to clean the pantry.

Thankfully, Wes never makes any attempts to actually drink any of the cleaning stuff they have lying everywhere. If his eyes ever did linger too long on a bottle—like they did that first day—Travis would immediately pour every single bottle down the drain and put up with the fit Wes would throw until he can convince him to switch to using soap and water as his only cleaning solution. But they never get to that stage, so Travis doesn’t have to fight that battle.

There’s one time when Wes gets so overwhelmed during the kissing that he rushes upstairs and into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Travis follows along, frantically debating if he’ll make things worse by stopping Wes or not stopping him. But he doesn’t have to make that decision because when he gets into the bathroom, Wes is leaning against the counter, a toothbrush clutched in his hand and his eyes squeezed shut.

“I can’t do this,” he chokes out.

Taking a risk, Travis slowly wraps his arms around Wes and presses his face to the back of his neck. Wes doesn’t shove him away, which is good but Travis doesn’t want to push his luck so he doesn’t try reaching for the toothbrush. “You’re already doing it.”

“I want to brush my teeth. I want to scrub my mouth out until it doesn’t feel dirty and contaminated anymore.”

“Yeah, but you’re holding the toothbrush and you’re not doing it,” he mumbles against the back of Wes’ neck. “That’s cause you know your mouth isn’t really dirty or contaminated. That means you’re fighting and you’re winning.”

It takes a while, but eventually, Wes drops the toothbrush into the sink and turns around in the circle of Travis’ arms and clings to him. “Please distract me,” he pleads.

That’s something Travis can easily do so he takes Wes to bed and spends hours making him feel good and forget all about why he’d gone into the bathroom in the first place. But he’s careful to keep all his kissing below Wes’ neck.

On some days, Travis thinks the kissing is going well but Wes will still pull away, running his tongue around his mouth with a look of disgust on his face. Even though he knows it has nothing to do with him, it does hurt. Just a little bit. But after he’s calmed down, Wes will always hug him and spend the rest of the day doing small things that reminds Travis that they’re on the right track.

And slowly, bit by bit, things get better.

Wes allows Travis’ tongue to explore more and more of his mouth. The kisses last longer and Wes’ tension and anxiety lessen. It takes Wes less time to calm down afterwards. Eventually, he joins in more, curling his tongue against Travis’ and sliding his arms around him while they kiss.

There’s the memorable day when it’s Wes who licks at Travis’ closed lips when they first start kissing and Wes tentatively slides his tongue into Travis’ mouth to greet his tongue. That makes Travis smile, which screws up the kiss, but he can’t help it.

Wes pulls back and opens his eyes, smiling but frowning at him. “What?”

“Your tongue came over to say hello. It’s never done that before.”

Wes huffs out a happy, little laugh, his eyes bright. He shrugs. “Well, I think my tongue thought it was time to pay your mouth a visit too. Save you a trip for once.”

Travis laughs and pulls Wes close to him before catching his lips in another kiss and letting Wes’ tongue back in to say hello.

Then there’s the day when Travis is fucking Wes and in the middle of things, Wes stares up at him, his eyes half-closed from arousal. “Kiss me,” he pants out.

It makes Travis freeze mid-thrust and gape down at him. Then he realizes Wes must have meant kiss his neck so Travis smiles and dives down to kiss Wes’ neck.

But Wes makes an unhappy sound and fumbles to grab Travis’ face, pulling him away from his neck. “No, I meant up here.”

Travis blinks and stares down at him. Arousal is pulsing through him but he’s still left stunned by what Wes is saying. But when he searches Wes’ face, he watches Wes’ lips curl into that small, soft smile.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I really want to. I think I’m ready.”

His heart soars and Travis grins. “Yeah?”

Wes nods. “Yeah. And fuck me while you’re kissing me. Nice and slow.”

Laughing, Travis rubs his nose against Wes’. “Well, look at you.”

Wes’ eyes are shining as he smiles up at him. Then he tugs on Travis’ head and tilts his chin, catching Travis’ lips in a kiss. Probably thinking that Travis will get the wrong idea about what he wants, Wes is quick to licks Travis’ lips and Travis happily lets him in, their tongues slowly tangling together.

The kiss completes the fantasy that Travis has had for so long and he melts into the kiss, relishing the soft, happy moan that Wes lets out and the way his arms tighten around Travis’ back. Bracing his forearms on either side of Wes’ head, Travis shifts closer to him and slowly resumes fucking him, setting a gentle, unhurried pace that matches their kissing.

That fire in his gut flares to life again and he pulls back every few kisses just to stare down at Wes and drink in the sight of his half-closed eyes, his spit-slick lips and the way Wes smiles up at him before craning his neck up because he wants to keep kissing Travis.

It’s everything that Travis has always dreamed of, but it’s so much better because everything they’re doing is a testament to the hard work they’ve done and the struggles they’ve gone through.

Afterwards, they’re lying next to each other, limbs intertwined and close enough that they’re sharing the same air and it only takes a small head tilt to rub his nose against Wes’ or kiss him. It’s perfect and Travis can’t stop smiling.

Wes looks so content and relaxed and he smiles sleepily at him. “I’m so glad you came to live with me,” he mumbles.

Travis smiles and kisses him. “Me too.”

And he really is. Despite how nuts the outside world is, despite all the unknowns still facing them, despite Travis still thinking it’s a bit crazy that he’s living with Wes in the middle of a pandemic, things are working out a lot better than he thought they would. Hopefully, things will continue getting better.

But one thing's for sure. As long as he and Wes are working together, Travis is confident that they’ll win every battle they face.


End file.
